


Handle With Care

by Havepenwillimagine (starchan007)



Series: Handle With Care [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Homophobic Language, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 59,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3108377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starchan007/pseuds/Havepenwillimagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin has no idea what he's going to do. After years bouncing from job to job, he finally thinks he's found one that'll help get him out of his less than likable financial state. His luck is short lived though and not long after he finds himself on the hunt once more. Until he lands a job as live-in help for the obscenely rich Jean Kirschstein, and his young son Marco. But as their relationship grows, Armin realizes there's more at stake than just his cushy new job and that sometimes there's no such thing as compromise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Eren, I cannot tell you how much this means to me,” Armin said, tucking in his button up shirt. Eren leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest and an amused smile playing on his lips. 

“It’s no big deal. They were looking to hire a new waiter anyways.” 

“I know, but…you know how much I need this job. I swear I’ll pay you back for it.” 

“Like I said Armin, don’t sweat it. Just…try to calm down okay?” Eren asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Armin nodded and looked at himself in the mirror, debating pinning his hair back before deciding against it. He looked decent enough; perhaps no one at the five-star restaurant would notice his off-the-bargain-rack slacks and last season’s clearance black loafers. Or the fact that the bowtie in his pocket was a clip-on. Armin knew how to do a lot of things, but tying a bow-tie was not one of them. 

“Come on, you look fine. Let’s go. Levi hates it when I’m late,” Eren said, shoveling the blond out the door, ignoring the next three kinds of thank you that left his mouth on the drive there. 

Armin swallowed hard when they got there, feeling his nerves creep up on him. He could be good with people, sure, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that this was one of the city’s most upscale restaurants, his friend had practically spoon-fed him the job and he could not afford to screw this up. Not if he wanted to continue putting a roof over his ~~own~~ head. He knew that, if it came down to it, Eren would be happy to help him, but he was nearing twenty-six now. He couldn’t rely on his friends forever, and hopefully this job would be the last in a long line of favors and lifelines they had thrown him over the years. 

Truthfully, he hated being such a burden. All he’d ever wanted to do was graduate college with his Lit degree, write a modestly successful novel and live a comfortable life. But once his grandfather had died and he’d realized how little of the man’s meager estate would be left after funeral and hospital costs, well, Armin knew he’d probably be looking at a life of single-bedroom apartments, minimum-wage jobs, and college debts. All of which were things that were hardly conducive to getting those creative juices flowing. In fact, he hadn’t written anything since his Grandfather had passed. Sure, he had dozens of files on his computer, full of intro chapters or mid-storyline plot-twists but – 

“Hey, Armin. Quit spacing out and let’s go!” 

“R-right! Coming, sorry.” Armin rushed to follow Eren through the back-door into the kitchens. 

He followed suite in hanging up his coat, but wasn’t sure what to do after that. Eren was already slipping into his role as sous chef – who would’ve guessed – and greeting the staff before getting things going. Armin was almost certain they were planning on training him before sending him out on the floor but – 

“You must be Armin, right? Eren told me about you.” The man in front of him was about his height with dark hair that was mostly tucked under his white chef’s hat. 

“Yes. I’m Armin Arlert. It’s nice to meet you. I’d just like to say thank you for the oppo-” 

“Yeah, that’s nice. But look, we’re busy tonight and a little understaffed as it is, so you’re going to have to learn on the fly. Petra will show you the basics but that’s about all I can promise for now. Think you can handle it?” Armin could feel himself sweating already but he nodded. Nothing like the test of a pressure cooker, right? 

As it turned out, the night wasn’t a complete disaster… Armin only messed up two orders and didn’t even have to bring a manager out to correct it. Overall he thought things went pretty well. And they continued to do so over the next two weeks. That was when everything went to shit. The night started off as usual with Armin smiling and taking orders and feeling pleased with himself that he had read up enough on wines that he could now recommend certain wines for certain dishes. And then _he_ walked in, with his perfectly styled undercut, expensive suit tailored impeccably to his tall, lean frame – and great ass – and a slightly cocky smile that had Armin going weak in the knees. 

Armin really wished the guy and his petite blonde date had been seated somewhere other than in his section, but he didn’t feel secure enough in his position just yet to ask, so forcing a polite smile he lead them to a table, knowing it would be difficult to keep his mind on his work, especially when he could see the honeyed-brown color of the man’s eyes up close. 

“Hi, my name is Armin and I’ll be your server this evening,” he introduced himself, setting menus before them, or attempting to at least. “You must be new here. Those won’t be necessary,” the man said, waving them away in a manner Armin found both pretentious and rude. Just a pretty face then. What a shame. 

Armin spent the evening being all but bossed around by the guy, who nit-picked the food and returned two plates for “not being done the way he ordered”. He did his best to keep a gracious smile on his face, but damn, it was hard when the guy continued staring at him in a manner that made Armin feel like he was something that would normally be found on the bottom of a person’s shoe. Perhaps he did set the main course plates down a little harder than was necessary, and perhaps in his rush to get away from them he didn’t smile or make as much polite conversation as he should’ve, but he never, ever, meant to knock the wine glass over and spill it all down the front of an outfit he was sure was worth twice as much as everything he owned.

Armin stood rooted to the spot, horrified at what he had just done. He opened his mouth to apologize but the man was already standing and demanding a manager. The girl was in tears, crying over her ruined dress. Petra rushed forward to try and smooth things over but it wasn’t going to happen. The customer was launching into a rant about how rude Armin had been all evening and how he had purposefully messed up their orders and had probably knocked the glass over on purpose as well. 

Armin knew it was bullshit, but he was the new guy, and this big-shot customer was demanding his head. Armin could feel the eyes of every other customer on him and he just wanted to melt into the floor. There was a crash and Armin saw Eren storm out of the kitchen towards them. He knew he had to stop him. It was one thing for him to get fired but Eren would not lose his job over him. He frantically shook his head at his friend and then put himself between Eren and the infuriated customer. 

“I’m sorry if you felt that I was rude or out of line, and I most certainly did not mean to spill that wine. It was an-” 

“I don’t care if it was an accident. That dress is worth more than you are and now it’s ruined.” 

The man turned to Petra and pointed an accusing finger at Armin. 

“Either he’s gone the next time I come in here or else.”

The threat seemed like a laughable one at best, but Armin could see the resignation in Petra’s eyes. At the end of the night, Armin once again found himself out of a job. He would’ve liked a nice quiet ride home to mope and stew in his rotten luck, but Eren’s indignation almost seemed to outweigh his own and his friend ranted angrily the entire way back.

“What the actual fuck? I mean, I’ve seen that guy in there a few times but so what? He’s just some guy with money and there are plenty of them out there. I can’t believe they threw you under the bus like that!” Armin didn’t say anything, just continued to stare out the window at the cars passing them. 

“Don’t worry Armin, we’ll find you something else. And you know, if it comes down to it, you’re always welcome to stay with Mikasa and I…” Eren said, a gentler tone to his voice. 

Armin sighed and shifted in his seat, feeling uncomfortable. It would be a huge weight out of his shoulders to move out of his shoebox of an apartment and stay with them while he got back on his feet, but they had both done so much for him already. There was no way he could impose like that, regardless of what Eren said. 

“Well, let’s give it another week or two and if I don’t find something, we’ll see,” Armin said as neutrally as he could manage. There was no way he’d be able to find another job by then…especially when it came out that he had been fired from his last one after just two measly weeks. But he was going to give it his best shot. 

The next morning he got up early and hit the streets, looking for any place that had a “Now Hiring” flyer in their windows. He filled out application after application, but after almost a week of doing the same and not a single call-back, it was getting increasingly difficult to put his feet to the pavement. One morning – a Sunday – he allowed himself to sleep in for a bit before grabbing a book and heading to the nearest coffee shop. A large part of him felt guilty for shirking his self-designated responsibilities, but the atmosphere in the apartment was just too depressing and stifling. Surely he could afford one afternoon and the cheapest coffee they had to offer.

On his way he stopped and picked up a newspaper as well, figuring it couldn’t hurt to browse the job column. It seemed like a stretch, but at least then he could feel like he was doing something productive. Maybe tomorrow he’d go to the library and fill out some applications online…. He really needed to get himself a laptop or something. He’d make sure to take care of that the next time a few hundred extra dollars fell into his lap. Right. 

After finding a cozy looking chair in the back of the café and ordering himself a small coffee, he settled in and flipped open his book. But the newspaper stared at him accusingly from its place on the armrest. Armin sighed and set the book back down. It would just have to wait. It wasn’t like it was going to bring him any inspiration. He scanned the columns quickly, looking for anything that would fit his needs, or anything at all for that matter. Truck drivers, mechanics, an ad for a dental tech, nothing he was qualified for. There were a few on the other page but he doubted it would be anything worth looking at. Still. He’d better at least check. He flipped the paper over and his eyes darted down the column. As he’d figured, nothing. 

Apart from the last one. 

He felt a jolt of excitement. He had a driver’s license – it didn’t say a car was required – and he could cook – so what if it was mostly for himself? – and he definitely knew how to clean. He met all the requirements. Except one. 

“Hi, I’m calling about the um…the Girl Friday position. It hasn’t been filled yet…has it?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate. 

“No, it hasn’t,” the receptionist on the other end answered. Armin breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“There have been a few other interested parties though. Mr. Kirschstein is holding interviews tomorrow. Should I pencil you in for a slot?” she asked. 

“Um yes. Yes please,” he said. 

There was an expectant pause on the other end and it took Armin a moment to realize she wanted his information. He gave her his name and information and had her put him down for an interview at three the next day. The whole time he was waiting for the woman to turn him down after she realized he was a man, but aside from the slight bit of trepidation he’d heard when she’d answered the phone, there was nothing. Hopefully that was a good sign. 

He couldn’t help but wondering what sort of man this ‘Mr. Kirschstein’ was. A busy one, obviously, if he was trying to hire live-in help. Rich and prissy as well, most likely. Or maybe his high-maintenance wife was too busy pampering herself to take care of house-hold cleaning. Armin sighed and slid his phone back into his pocket. He had no right to be judgmental. If anything, he had ass to kiss. Feeling almost giddy with his success – or step forward towards it anyways – Armin picked up his now lukewarm coffee and took a sip, settling back into his chair with a satisfied smile and his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'd like to apologize for the failure of my last fic, and in that same breath, present a new one. I know for a fact this one will flow better and actually be finished. I can't say yet how many chapters it'll be, but I have the basic plot line set. I intend to stick to a weekly update schedule (which will be aided by the fact that I'm already several chapters into the writing). So, I hope you enjoy Handle With Care and thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. I'd like to address the addition of 'Homophobic Language' to the tags. I put it there as fair warning, but without minimizing the effects of homophobia, I would like to say that it is more implied than outright said in this work, with the possible exception of a few obscenities. As such, I'm not going to indicate which particular chapters contain this content, and I apologize in advance if this offends you.


	2. Chapter 2

Once again Armin found himself staring in the mirror, dithering over his appearance. He wished he’d thought to get it cut yesterday…it had been a few weeks since his last trim. Perhaps he should pin it back this time…he didn’t want to show up looking unkempt. He doubted his potential future employer would like housing someone who looked like they didn’t know how to keep up appearances. With a sigh he went and rooted around his bathroom drawer for a hair pin, grabbing the hair from around his temples and just behind his bangs and clipping it behind his head. There. Much better. 

He had debated wearing his suit – the only one he owned – which had been left to him by his grandfather but decided against it. Not only was it terribly out of fashion, it fit him wrong and made him feel too businesslike. He knew he was going for an interview but it was for something just shy of a maid…how professional would he really need to be? Instead he wore khakis, a button up shirt and the sweater vest that, although also left to him by his grandfather, fit him better and didn’t look tacky. In his opinion at least. 

With a final determined nod at his appearance, he grabbed his satchel – with a notebook, some pens and a copy of his resume – and headed down the stairs of his apartment to his bike. Thank god it wasn’t a long ride and the sky was nearly cloudless. He’d have to fix his hair after he got there though… With a sigh the blonde rolled up his right pant leg to protect it from the oil of the gears and set off. Less than an hour later he found himself staring up at the tall structure of the one of the cities swankiest hotels. Well…maybe just the interview was here. It probably had a nice lounge or something. 

He felt out of place as he practically tiptoed across the marble flooring. It was like the debt to his name was increasing just looking around the lobby and thinking about what it cost to spend a night here. After a few seconds of unabashed gawking he realized he should probably find out where he was supposed to go. Surely the girl behind the concierge desk would know where to direct him. He cleared his throat a little awkwardly as he stepped up to the marble topped counter. 

“Um excuse me…I’m here for an interview for the-” 

“Girl Friday position?” she asked with something like a smirk. Armin felt the back of his neck grow warm but he nodded. 

“You’re a little bit early but Mr. Kirschtein should be about finished with the last girl. You can go ahead and go up. Fourty-fifth floor, go left and it’s the door at the end of the hallway,” she said. 

Armin thanked her and made his way to the elevators. Forty-fifth floor? What in God’s name was he getting himself into? The ride to the top was nerve-wracking, not only because Armin wasn’t the world’s biggest fan of elevators, but also because with a permanent office located in the hotel, the guy was obviously on staff here. And very high up – no pun intended. Though he couldn’t help but giggle a little at the thought. Boy, he really needed to get his nerves under control. 

Armin stepped out of the elevator and started down the hallway. As he approached the frosted glass door and prepared to knock, it suddenly swung open and a woman rushed out. She seemed upset, which did absolutely nothing to calm Armin down. He all but pressed himself to the wall as she barreled past him, muttering furiously under her breath. Well. That wasn’t a good sign… 

“If you’re out there for the next interview you may as well come in,” a female voice said rather impatiently. Armin ducked into the office and she pointed at the door to her left, from behind which came a voice a few seconds later. 

“Is the next one here? Go ahead and send her in.”

It sounded tired, but familiar somehow, though Armin couldn’t place it. He was probably imagining it anyways. He couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he and the man in the other room could ever have crossed paths… The man was sitting at his desk, head bent over a sheet of paper writing something. He didn’t look up when he addressed Armin, but there was something familiar about the shape of him… 

“You know the position was for a _Girl_ Friday,” the man emphasized, and when he looked up everything both clicked into place and fell apart. 

“Y-you!” Armin spluttered, finding himself face to face with no one other than the man who had gotten fired from the restaurant. There was no recognition in his face as he arched an eyebrow, leaning back in his leather desk chair. 

“Well you’re not making a very good impression, are you?” he commented rather condescendingly. Armin gaped at him, torn between outrage and shock. 

“ _Me_?” He finally managed, settling on outrage. 

“ _You_ got me _fired_!” he hissed. The man frowned, clearly not having any idea what Armin was talking about. 

“Oh. You’re that waiter. From last week,” he finally said, snapping his fingers in realization. He shrugged unapologetically. 

“Sorry. I didn’t think you were performing up to snuff. I won’t have people working for me that can’t do their jobs.” Armin stared at him with renewed shock. 

“W-working for you?” he stammered. The man nodded. 

“That’s right. I own it. And this hotel.” Armin stared at him, open mouthed. But the guy could hardly be much older than he was! There was no way he could own all of that! 

“You seem surprised,” he said, sounding amused. 

“I….You…But-” 

“Look, why don’t you have a seat? You’re here for the interview, right?” The man interrupted Armin’s incoherent stuttering. 

“Y-yes. Right. Sorry,” Armin mumbled, moving forward to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. 

He couldn’t help but think that this was pointless. If this man didn’t think he could cut it as a simple waiter, there was no way Armin’s cooking and cleaning would measure up. Especially if he owned a restaurant where chefs like Levi and Eren worked. 

Up close Armin could see him better though. He was as handsome as he’d been in the restaurant, but now Armin could see that something was different; he didn’t seem quite so composed and there were bags under his eyes. He seemed…weary, somehow. Something about him had changed. The blond wondered if he’d find out what that was… 

“Um, here’s a copy of my resume,” Armin said, reaching into his bag. Mr. Kirschtein – as Armin remembered, though it was strange now addressing a man his age as Mr. – waved it away in a manner similar to that he had used last week. 

“Don’t need it. Can you cook?” he asked. Armin shifted uncomfortably. 

“Well yes. I’m not a gourmet chef but I can do it well enough. And I can follow recipes,” he said, hoping to pitch himself in a more positive light. 

“What about cleaning? I’m not talking just dishes here, either. Vacuuming, laundry, cleaning a toilet. That kind of thing,” he said frankly. 

“Of course I can do all that,” Armin said, only just remembering to temper his response. He was still trying to get a job after all. 

“Well, you’d be surprised by the number of girls I’ve had come in and tell me they’d never cleaned a toilet before. Anyways. I’m assuming you can drive as well? Have a valid driver’s license and all that?” Armin nodded but couldn’t help the flush creeping up the back of his neck and spilling onto his cheeks. 

“Yes, I do but…I don’t have a car,” he admitted, fearing that this piece of information would put an immediate end to the interview. To his surprise the other waved it off. 

“Not a problem, you can use one of mine,” he said. For a brief second Armin wondered what it would be like not only to have one car, but to have enough that the thought of loaning one out on a regular basis didn’t make him queasy with nerves. 

“Last question.” 

Armin steeled itself, wondering what it would be. Perhaps something outlandish, like a thong for a uniform. Okay…maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but that last girl had seemed pretty insulted on her way out. Though…Armin was starting to realize that might have been more as a result of this guy’s charming personality than anything else. 

“How do you feel about kids?” Armin frowned. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Kids. You know, children? Small humans.” Armin resisted the urge to roll his eyes and shrugged instead. 

“I like kids just fine. I used to volunteer at reading camps over the summers in high school and college, so I know how to work with them. Why?” Surely this man wasn’t married…there was no ring on his finger to indicate such, and from what little Armin had seen of him, he didn’t seem like the type to settle down with a family at the end of the night. 

“Because, that’ll be a large part of your job. Taking care of my ah…my son,” he said, and the words seemed like they were as strange for him to say as they were for Armin to hear. Armin considered that bewilderedly. His…what? Was this some sort of prank? A hoax or reality TV show? 

“I’m sorry, your son?” he asked. The man sighed and stood up, calling to his secretary to clear his schedule for the next half hour and motioning for Armin to follow. 

“I’ll explain on the way up.” On the way up? Did he… 

“Do you live here?” he asked incredulously. The man fixed him with a look that clearly said he didn’t understand why Armin was so surprised by that. 

“Yes.” Armin choked back his response and shrugged as nonchalantly as was possible. “Anyways. Look, it’s a complicated situation. Actually, now that I think about it, I really don’t feel like explaining it just this second. You don’t have the job yet anyways.” 

Lovely. That was just what Armin wanted to be reminded of. 

“For now let’s just see what he thinks of you. If it goes well I’ll start you with a one-week trial period. His name is Marco. He’s six.” 

Armin barely had time to nod before the elevator dinged and let them out on the fiftieth floor – which had needed a key card to access – presumably above any other offices and executive suites. Armin was surprised to see the doors slide open to reveal a small landing with another door, very similar to most people’s front doors. When the man unlocked it and ushered him in, Armin gasped audibly as he looked around. The penthouse was beautiful, with a combination kitchen and dining area which was partially separated from the living room by a half wall, lined with the same dark granite countertop as the high seated dining table. The entire far wall – as far as Armin could tell anyways – was floor to cieling glass, giving Armin a breathtaking view of the city below. He couldn’t even imagine what it was like to live here. 

“Marco?” the other man called either oblivious or merely choosing not to comment on Armin’s apparent astonishment. “There’s someone here I want you to meet.” 

There was no change in his tone, nothing to suggest the warm paternal feelings one would expect. It unnerved Armin and he wondered again about the ‘complicated’ situation. A small boy of about four or maybe five crept in from another down the hallway, dressed in a striped shirt and overalls. The other looked at him expectantly and the boy came forward almost reluctantly to stand in front of them. What the fuck was going on here? And had this kid been here all by himself until just now?

“Hi Jean,” he said shyly. Jean? Was that the other man’s name? What ever happened to dad? The boy looked to Armin and studied him in that wide-eyed way that children do. His freckled nose wrinkled. 

“Are you going to be my nanny?” he asked. Armin didn’t know how to respond. 

“Maybe,” the one apparently called Jean said. “What do you think?” he asked. Marco put his hand on his chin, in an appraising sort of manner. Armin found it adorable. 

“He looks nicer than that other lady,” he finally admitted. Jean chuckled – the first noise of its kind Armin had heard from him. 

“Well that other lady didn’t know how to clean a toilet. This one says he does,” 

“Or bake cookies. Does he know how to make cookies?” Marco asked, apparently uninterested in whether or not Armin could clean that particular bit of bathroom furniture. 

Deciding for a moment to just ignore Jean, Armin removed his satchel and squatted down so he was at Marco’s eye level and beckoned him forward. The youngster obliged and Armin smiled at him. 

“I do know how to make cookies, Marco. That’s your name, right?” he asked, knowing perfectly well that it was. The dark-haired child nodded enthusiastically. 

“I’m Marco Bodt! What’s your name?” he asked. 

“My name is Armin Arlert.” He said, holding out his hand to shake Marco’s little one.

“That’s a funny name,” Marco said. Beside him he heard Jean snort. Armin ignored him. 

“You think so, huh? Well that’s okay. As long as you don’t laugh at it,” he said with a smile. Marco nodded, his face suddenly serious. 

“Mama said it’s not nice to laugh at people,” he said.

“Sounds like your Mama is a smart lady.” From the corner of his eye, Armin saw Jean shift uncomfortably. 

“Marco, why don’t you go watch TV a little longer? Armin and I have things to talk about,” Jean said. 

“Okay. Can Armin stay a little longer though? I like him.” Armin couldn’t help but be both amazed by how fast kids were able to make a decision like that, and pleased at the conclusion the boy had drawn. 

“We’ll see Marco. If I do we can make cookies together sometime, I promise,” Armin said. Marco beamed and raced out of the room, yelling ‘cookies’ at the top of his tiny lungs. Jean blew out a breath of air as Armin stood once more. 

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the backs of one of the nearby dining set chairs. Armin tore his eyes away from Jean’s shoulders – not particularly broad beneath the jacket, but not narrow either – and shook his head. 

“Seems like he likes you.” 

“Seems that way.” There was silence now as Jean poured himself a glass of what – to Armin’s surprise – appeared to be apple juice.

“So now what?” Armin couldn’t help but ask. 

“Well, like I said, we can start with a one week trial period – providing you pass a background check, obviously. If it works out we’ll go from there.” 

Armin was buzzing with questions. Wasn’t Jean’s last name Kirschtein? Why was Marco’s different? Not to mention, Marco had called him by his first name… And the mention of the boy’s mother had changed the atmosphere as well, so what did that mean? And what was he going to do with the lease on his apartment? He desperately wanted to know, but he was more worried about the consequences of his nosiness. He couldn’t afford to piss this guy off before he was officially hired. He swallowed it down, asking instead what his full duties would entail. 

“Marco is attending the local kindergarten, you’ll drop him off and pick him up during the week, pack him lunches, make him breakfast, that kind of thing. I get off work around six most nights. Dinner should be ready at six thirty so he and I can sit down and eat. If I’m going to be late, or not home I’ll let you know. Dishes are obviously a daily thing, vacuuming and dusting and the bathrooms can be done once a week. You’ll get weekends off, unless something comes up in which case I’ll pay you overtime. Sound alright?” Honestly, it sounded perfect. 

“What about you? I mean…am I expected to make your breakfast or anything?” Armin asked. 

Jean raised an eyebrow, and Armin couldn’t tell if he was surprised or insulted that he had. 

“I can take care of myself,” he said, though there was no condescension behind it. 

Armin nodded. He felt good about this, certain it was something he could do and do well. He already did most of the tasks mentioned for himself. How much harder could it be adding a six year old to the mix?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Chapter 2 is up and Armin finds himself working for the jerk that got him fired! There's no way this could end badly, right?
> 
> Also, I'm going to continue trying to update on Saturdays and since I have the next 2 and a half chapters written, there shouldn't be a problem. If I start running into issues later on I might switch back to Sundays as I have in the past, but for now check back Saturdays. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

That afternoon Jean had also shown Armin to what would be his room – which much to his surprise and delight had its own bathroom – and taken him on a brief tour of the rest of the penthouse, as well as sending him back down to his secretary to fill out all the necessary paperwork to put him on payroll. Armin couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t shown Jean’s room. Then again, he guessed there wasn’t much need of that if it wasn’t his job to take care of it. That in itself seemed bizarre, but perhaps Jean wasn’t comfortable with having a nearly complete stranger poking through his things. If that were the case, Armin could hardly blame him. Jean had mentioned he’d put a rush on the results of the background check, so that Armin could – hopefully – start as soon as possible. The guy must’ve been desperate to get some help… In the back of his mind Armin couldn’t help but wonder what he’d gotten himself into. He hoped that Marco wasn’t a problem child or something like that. 

It was Wednesday when Jean’s secretary called, informing that he had passed the background check – which came as no surprise to Armin – and that Mr. Kirschtein would like him to start the next day if possible, which Armin assured her would be no trouble. He still hadn’t mentioned this to Eren or Mikasa in case it didn’t end up being permanent, but he would have to explain a week’s worth of absences to them somehow… He’d deal with that later. He didn’t know if he could sit down and have a proper conversation at the moment anyways. He was practically vibrating with excitement, and nerves. He tried several unsuccessful times to remind himself that he was perfectly capable of household chores and that everything would be fine. In the end, it was all he could do to fall asleep that night, and it was not a very restful sleep either.

The next morning Armin prepared a week’s worth of clothes and necessities and opted to catch the bus back to the hotel with his suitcase, relieved that it ran early enough for him to meet his requested arrival time of nine. The girl behind the counter called up to Jean so he could let Armin up to the top floor. Marco had already been taken to school, but Jean had cleared a chunk of his schedule to see Armin in and help him settle, which was an unexpected surprise. Given the tension, Armin couldn’t quite decide whether it was welcome or not. 

The blond wheeled his suitcase into his bedroom and looked around at it again. He still couldn’t get over how nice it was. It stood to reason that with the rest of the apartment looking the way it did, the guest room would be luxurious as well, but it was still hard to wrap his head around. He glanced at the chest of drawers against one wall, but decided against moving his things in there. It was only a week, and as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, Jean’s attitude didn’t leave him feeling overly confident that he’d get the job. Maybe if he could prove he’d truly won Marco over… 

Behind him someone – presumably Jean, since they were the only two there – cleared their throat from near the door. How long had he been standing there? 

“School gets out at three. You can take the BMW, the address is programmed into it. He’ll need to be dropped off by eight tomorrow morning.” Armin turned to look at him to determine whether he was kidding or not. Well, that was a no. Holy shit…a BMW. 

“O-okay. Does he need a car seat?” Armin asked. Jean nodded.

“He’s got a booster seat in the back. I told him this morning that you’d be picking him up.” Armin nodded. There was a moment of silence and then Jean turned to go. 

“Uh, Mr. Kirschtein-” Jean stopped and turned back, something like amusement showing in his brown eyes. 

“You can call me Jean, you know. Marco does, you may as well too,” he said. Armin looked at him. 

“And…can I ask why that is?” Jean raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. 

“S-sorry. Never mind. Not my business.” Jean just rolled his eyes, turning to go again. 

“Um Jean, I just wanted to ask if there was anything in particular I should make for dinner? Are you or Marco allergic to anything?” Armin asked, remembering his original question. Jean looked at him curiously, as though surprised Armin would ask. It seemed like common sense to the blond…what if he made something that put one of them in the hospital? 

“No, we’re not allergic to anything. Just make whatever you want, it’ll be fine.” 

Damn. The guy sure was blunt. Armin hoped he wouldn’t be this painfully unapproachable forever… He sighed and followed, heading to the kitchen to see what they had and determine whether he would need to go to the store. If it was a long list he’d leave early and go by himself, but otherwise maybe he’d take Marco after school. It could be a good bonding experience, and a chance for Armin to learn what sort of foods Marco liked before he took over as permanent chef. He’d have to find another way to find out what Jean liked, since it didn’t seem his employer was planning on telling him outright. 

Armin did his best to smother the feeling that the man was setting him up for failure. After all, he’d at least agreed to give him a chance. He made his way to the kitchen and began peering through the cupboards. There was a decent amount of cookware, but between the way they were perfectly arranged in the cupboards and the lack of food in the fridge and elsewhere, Armin didn’t think they got used much. 

At first Armin had wondered why he even needed a maid or Girl Friday or whatever he was. There had been practically nothing in the way of messes when he’d come up yesterday and it was clear from his appearance alone that Jean was no slob. But as he’d walked back through today he could see traces of Marco, a blanket and a few toys and suspected it had more to do with the six year old than anything else. Armin gave a slight shake of the head and sighed, heading to the kitchen. 

It was going to be a long grocery list after all, apparently. And he needed to get his hands on a cookbook. Maybe he could stop by his apartment to get one on his way to the store… Although… 

“Hey Jean?” he called, not sure where the other was but certain he hadn’t left yet. Or at least he was hopeful that was the case. He didn’t want to bother the brunette at work his first day…even if work was just a few floors down. Jean appeared a few moments later with the jacket that matched his pants slung over his arm. It was only now that Armin realized he hadn’t been wearing it earlier. Damn…didn’t this man own anything other than those beautiful suits? He caught himself staring before the silence stretched out for too long. 

He cleared his throat, hoping it wasn’t awkward and asked, “How am I going to pay for the groceries?” 

“Oh right. Sorry, forgot about that.” Jean reached into his pants pocket and produced his wallet, pulling out two cards and handing them to Armin.

“There’s your access key to the elevator and the other is a debit card for house funds. There’s a five hundred dollar limit on there, which should be more than enough for food and groceries and whatever gas you’ll need. I’ll expect the receipts though, so I can look them over.” 

Armin forced himself to keep quiet. Was Jean really implying that Armin needed someone to chaperone his spending? As if! If there was one thing Armin knew, it was living on a budget. Something this guy probably couldn’t even fathom. 

“Of course,” he said, trying his best to keep his tone even. There was something in Jean’s eyes that seemed to be almost challenging him to say more, but of course he didn’t. Neither of them did and a second later the strange Mexican standoff was over. 

“Well, I’m going to head down to the office. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” Yes, Armin certainly did, but he had a feeling that didn’t really mean Jean would want to be interrupted. 

“Alright. I’ll…see you tonight then, I guess,” he said uncertainly. Jean just waved at him over his shoulder without turning back. What a weird guy. 

Later, after Armin had pieced together a fairly lengthy grocery list – nothing superfluous, but come on, a growing six year old needed more in the way of fruits and vegetables than apple juice from concentrate – he pulled on his jacket, grabbed the keys to the BMW from a hook by the door and went to the elevator. It still felt very…surreal. He wondered if he’d be there long enough for that feeling to wear off. 

He seriously had to stop thinking that way. So what if it was a little awkward right now? Jean was probably adjusting to this just as much as Armin was. It wasn’t like he could expect to fall into an easy relationship with him. Besides, it didn’t really matter much if they never got too friendly did it? Not if Jean was his employer. Which was another thing Armin needed to get under control. 

Jean was his _boss_ for shit’s sake. He needed to stop checking him out every other second. But Christ, Armin had a type and Jean fit it to a T and with everything else that had been on his plate lately, he had no time for relationships, purely physical ones included. He seriously needed to get laid. When Armin stepped out of the elevator, the girl behind the front desk was waving at him, apparently trying to get him to come over. With some trepidation he did so. 

“So you got the job, huh?” she asked. Armin nodded and decided to omit the fact that as of now it was only a trial run. She smiled at him. 

“I was a little surprised when you showed up here. You looked so scared. What’s your name anyways?” 

“Uh, Armin.” She nodded. 

“I’m Sasha. And, oh! Hey, hey Connie, come over here! He got it!” she said. Armin’s brow furrowed as another man with closely shorn hair and dressed in a bellhop’s uniform passed by them, stopping at Sasha’s call. 

“Yeah? So did he tell you where the kid came from?” he asked in a low voice as he walked over. 

“Came from?” Armin asked. He could tell Connie where kids came from, but somehow he doubted that’s what the bellhop wanted to hear… 

“Yeah. Nobody knows what the deal is. Last week this kid just showed up out nowhere and everyone is _dying_ to know what’s going on,” Connie informed him. 

“Nobody’s actually had the guts to ask him, though.” 

“Why? He wouldn’t fire you would he?” Armin asked, horrified. If that was the case, how long before he asked some question that got _him_ fired. What if he already had? 

 

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just…well…he’s kind of scary,” Sasha mock whispered. Armin could see that. A guy their age being a business tycoon, and as good looking as he was, Armin could definitely see it. 

“I mean, he goes on so many dates, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them just got knocked up, but then again most of the girls he brings back here are blonde…” Connie trailed off with a shrug. Armin remembered the blonde girl he had brought back to the restaurant, and for some reason he felt his heart sink. So the guy was a player to boot. Not that it mattered. A second later, Connie was called away to help some older woman with her luggage and Sasha stood up from leaning against the counter. 

“Anyways, I should get back to work. I’ll see you around though,” she said with a smile. 

“Yeah…see you around Sasha,” Armin agreed, not quite sure how he felt after that conversation. 

True, he was glad that they seemed to see him on their level, and not some uppity butler or something, but…why was he so bothered to find all that out about Jean? And was it really true that Marco had just gotten here last week? It made sense, based on everything Armin had seen. It made a lot of sense, in fact ; the awkwardness between the two of them, the fact that Marco’s room had seemed barely lived in, Jean’s hesitation in calling Marco his son. Well, there was part of the mystery solved. But only a small part. 

Armin shook his head. Shopping. He had a lot of shopping to do before three. He was halfway across the lobby towards his bike when he remembered the keys in his pocket. It had been almost reflex to come to the lobby floor but the garage – and thus the BMW – were in the basement. Armin found it parked in the ‘Reserved Parking’ section, parked between two sports cars whose worth Armin was sure was staggering. Gingerly he opened the door of the sleek black sedan and slid into the leather covered driver’s seat. It had been a while since he’d driven…He tried not to focus on that as he started the engine and put it into reverse. He didn’t even want to think about what the consequences would be if he crashed it. He was just glad it was an automatic and not a manual. 

He reached the supermarket only five minutes later than the GPS predicted he would, and that had absolutely nothing to do with him barely toeing the speed limit for fear he would hit someone or something, thank you very much. The place was almost empty due to the odd hour, so despite his long list Armin was in and out in under an hour, cookie making supplies included. This left him with plenty of time to stop by his apartment and grab a few cookbooks as well as return to the penthouse, put all the groceries away and stick the receipt to the fridge, with the total circled. He had avoided circling the amount saved as well, figuring that would be, perhaps, just the slightest bit juvenile.

Armin left a half-hour early to pick up Marco, figuring it’d be better to get there early than be late due to traffic. He pulled into the parking lot where the rest of the parents seemed to be waiting and got out as well, figuring Marco would recognize him before he recognized the car – though to be fair, the BMW was easily one of the nicest ones there. When the school bell rang, a sea of children came flooding out the front doors, the smaller ones being led by older children in neon yellow sashes reading ‘Safety Patrol’. Armin smiled and waved when Marco saw him. The dark haired little boy came running over and smiled up at him. 

“Hi Armin!” he greeted. 

“Hey Marco. Ready to go?” 

The kindergartner nodded and let himself into the back seat, surprising Armin by buckling himself into his booster seat as well. Smart kid. Armin closed the door and went around to the driver’s seat, starting the car and heading back to the hotel. The whole way Marco chattered happily about his classes and new people he was meeting – Armin thought he seemed to adjusting pretty well, based on how he spoke. But then, kids were funny like that, adapting to new situations much easier than adults… 

He wondered if he could perhaps ask Marco about Jean, but pushed the thought aside. Given that Marco was younger and almost as new as Armin, it was unlikely he knew anything more or less than Armin did already. But perhaps Marco _could_ shed some light as to why he called his father Jean. Armin didn’t dismiss the idea, but tucked it away for later, after he had developed a real rapport with him. For now… 

 

“Hey Marco, how about when we get back we do that homework you were talking about and then make some cookies?” he suggested. Marco practically squealed with delight. Armin grinned to himself, feeling the slightest bit smug. He _so_ had this in the bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Chapter 3 has been posted for your enjoyment (and I apologize for getting to it so late in the day, but such is life) I hope you all liked this latest installment and once again, thanks so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

By six o’clock there was a plate of cookies on the island countertop covered with plastic wrap and the mess– which had been messier than Armin ever remembered cookie making being, but that was probably due to the addition of a six year old – was all but cleaned up, save the hot pads on the counter. Marco had gotten bored almost as soon as the first batch was finished and had been in the living room for the last half hour watching a children’s program Armin had set up for him. He was surprisingly well behaved, but Armin had yet to find out whether that was permanent or if the child was simply testing the waters and sizing Armin up. After years of teaching them how to read and doing his best to look after them on summer afternoons, Armin knew better than to underestimate children. 

He had prepped the ingredients for dinner – spaghetti and baked chicken breast – and was just about to put the chicken in the oven when he heard Jean come in. He had been starting to feel comfortable in the apartment having spent a pleasant afternoon with his new ward and getting to know where everything was, but now he felt as if all of that was gone. 

“Um…hi Jean,” Armin said, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. 

“Hey,” his employer said, taking his shoes off and nudging them next to Armin’s with his foot. He eyed the plate of cookies and reached for it. Armin swatted his hand away without thinking. 

“Those are for after dinner,” he chided. Jean looked at him, evidently more amused than irritated. Armin could feel himself going red.

“I mean, I didn’t let Marco have any yet, so it wouldn’t be fair if you got one,” he mumbled, wondering why he couldn’t get a grip. He was a grown man for crying out loud! And yet with one look, Jean could make him feel like some sort of teenage babysitter. Jean shrugged. 

“Whatever you say. What’s for dinner?” he asked. 

Armin told him, hoping it would sound appealing, despite not having a trumped up name or any fancy ingredients. He almost cringed when Jean’s eyes landed on the empty jar of store bought sauce. He wouldn’t defend himself if he was called out on it; homemade spaghetti sauce was an all-day affair and aside from being busy that afternoon, Armin wasn’t sure he was ready to try something of that caliber just yet. But Jean didn’t comment on it and a few seconds later he was gone, presumably to say hello to Marco – who must not have heard him come in – or to change out of his work clothes. Armin breathed an audible sigh of relief. That hadn’t been so bad… 

As he finished up, pulling the pasta off the stove and reaching for the plates as it strained, he paused. Where would he be expected to eat? True he was live-in help but…nothing about anything Jean had said or done suggested that he was to be part of the ‘family’ – as loosely as that term applied here. He set the three plates onto the counter and walked into the living room, torn between embarrassment for even asking and irritation that Jean had left him in a position where he felt he needed to ask. 

Armin frowned at what he saw; Marco was sitting at the table coloring, the TV on in the background, and Jean was sprawled out on the couch on his laptop. What good did Jean being home at six do if he was just going to ignore Marco? That was definitely not what the kid needed after such a dramatic change in his life. Armin made a silent promise not to do that to Marco, having grown strangely attached to him already. The blond cleared his throat and Jean turned his head to look up at him. 

“I was just wondering how many places I should set at the table.” Jean’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Three…?” Armin shrugged, trying to keep the humiliation off his face. 

“Well…I wasn’t sure if you wanted-” 

“Christ Armin, you work for me, that doesn’t make you my servant. It’s not like I’m going to banish you to your room after I come home,” he laughed. Armin was torn between overwhelming relief and annoyance that Jean had so callously dismissed his concerns. 

“Right, sorry,” Armin said and hurried back to the kitchen before the conversation could get even more uncomfortable. For some reason he thought he heard Jean sigh as he went.

So Armin set the table for three and mixed the sauce and pasta, setting the chicken on a serving dish and a salad in a bowl on the table before calling the other two in. He helped Marco cut up his chicken and bribed the kid with an extra cookie for dessert if he promised to eat his vegetables and then waited with bated breath as Jean began to eat. He was trying to be discreet and thought he was succeeding, but after a while Jean sighed and flicked his russet eyes up to Armin’s. 

“Will you stop staring at me? It’s good, okay? Better than anything I make, anyways.” Armin wanted to drop his face into his plate and perhaps asphyxiate on tomato sauce. It wasn’t like he was the smoothest person to begin with, but everything about Jean made him doubt himself and he felt ridiculous for making it so obvious. 

“What do you usually eat?” Armin asked, hoping he sounded as casual as he totally did not feel. Jean shrugged. 

“Room service mostly.” Armin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. 

“You’d get room service a lot too if you were as busy as I am,” Jean said just a tad defensively. 

“Well you’re home by six, it’s not like it’s too late to make something,” Armin replied. Jean shrugged. 

“Well, that’s a…recent development. You don’t get to where I am by calling it quits at 6pm on the dot,” the brunette muttered into his plate. For a brief second Armin almost felt sorry for him. But only for a second. After all, it was clear he worked hard but his life couldn’t be so difficult if he lived in a multimillion dollar penthouse and had enough free time to work up a reputation as a ladies man. And then Armin couldn’t help but wonder why Jean had imposed this new ‘end of the day’ rule. Surely it couldn’t be…If he was here for Marco, what sense did that make? Jean had hardly paid the boy any attention… 

“Arminnnnn are you listening to me?” Marco whined, waving his small hand across the table. Armin looked up at him and smiled. 

“Sorry Marco, I was thinking. Can you tell me again?” he asked. 

“I asked if I ate enough of the green stuff,” he said, looking down at his plate and then up at Armin hopefully. Most of the chicken was gone, but it appeared as if the boy had mostly just pushed the salad around his plate to spread it out, even going so far as to trying to hide some of it under his remaining pasta. Armin shot Jean a glare when the man tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh. 

“I don’t know Marco…what’s that green stuff hiding under your spaghetti?” he challenged. 

“Oh. That’s um…okay, fine,” he huffed and went back to picking at it rather morosely. Armin rolled his eyes and then glanced at Jean’s plate. 

“I don’t see you eating your vegetables either,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Jean stabbed a large forkful of salad and stared right at Armin as he put it in his mouth. 

“Happy?” he asked after he swallowed. Armin had to admit, he actually kind of was. 

At least the dinner wasn’t painfully awkward, although Armin couldn’t help but notice that Marco directed almost all of his questions at him, even asking Armin rather than Jean if he could be excused when he was finished. Jean watched him intently as he went, frowning. When he noticed Armin staring at him and caught his gaze, Armin tore his eyes away and resisted the urge to sink into his seat. It wasn’t like he had any reason to feel guilty! Jean was the one who didn’t seem to be spending any quality time with the kid… 

Armin knew that he probably shouldn’t be so critical of the guy since it was only his first day here, but there was just something about Jean that bothered him. And it had nothing to do with getting him fired. It was almost like he didn’t want to get close to Marco, but seemed to resent that Armin was. But that was ridiculous. He hadn’t even spent an entire twenty-four hours with the two of them. When it came down to it, perhaps his prejudice towards Jean had just as much to do with the man’s success as it did with his attitude. Maybe if he was honest with himself he could admit that he was jealous. He had spent his years after college living paycheck to paycheck and struggling to get by, and here Jean was – only a year or two older than him, he would guess – managing his own hotel and living in a – 

“Armin, did you hear me?” Jean asked, interrupting his thoughts. 

“Uh…no, sorry,” he replied, cursing himself. He was not doing a very good job at showing that he could be attentive. Jean rested his chin on his fist and studied Armin for a moment, apparently amused. 

“I asked how your first day was.” Armin hesitated, wondering how much Jean really wanted to know. Would a perfunctory ‘good’ be enough? Or did Jean want more than that? 

“It was fine,” he said, meaning it. 

Jean nodded, looked for a moment as though he’d say something else and then shook his head, returning to his meal in silence. He finished not long after, taking his plate to the sink and at least rinsing it off before setting it down. Well, Armin couldn’t complain. He was getting paid to do the dishes after all. He sighed, wondering what was the bigger mystery here; Marco’s relationship to Jean or Jean himself. He had seemed nothing if not polite today, a far cry from the stuck up snob Armin had already come to see him as. But which was actually Jean? Was he just putting on a nice face so as not to scare Armin off? 

Armin smacked himself in the forehead to make himself stop and then got up to clean up the mess from dinner. He couldn’t help but notice that the plastic wrap was suspiciously absent from the plate of cookies. Well…at least he’d waited like Armin had asked…. 

Having always been an early riser, Armin was surprised at the difficulty he had getting himself out of bed the next morning. Well…perhaps six thirty was a bit earlier than he was used to, but he knew he would need a few minutes to properly wake up and get some coffee in him before dealing with a six year old, especially if they were to get out of the house by seven-thirty. It took him several moments to figure out how to work the fancy single cup brewer Jean had – he hadn’t wanted to admit to not knowing how to work it when Jean had asked the day before – but the speed with which it dispensed that sweet caffeine made up for it. 

As it turned out he had planned almost perfectly; by the time he got Marco awake and dressed and ready for the day it was nearing quarter to eight. Armin would have to get over his fear of driving the BMW if he wanted to get the kid there on time, and seeing as it was his first day of drop-off duty, he definitely did.

After he had safely seen Marco – who stopped just outside the door to wave goodbye to him again – in the building, Armin realized he had quite a bit of time on his hands. Sure he had chores to do, but that wouldn’t take him all day. Perhaps he should give Eren a call… No, his friend was probably already at work. Fridays were busy for the restaurant and Eren had to go in early to help with the prep work. Still…the blond couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t heard from him. Maybe Eren knew well enough by now that Armin liked some space after shit went down. That was hard to believe. Mikasa probably had him on a leash then. But it didn’t feel right having started this new job and not having told them about it. Tomorrow he would make plans to spend the day with them. It was his day off after all. So, with that to look forward to Armin pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! First I'd like to apologize for the late update. There was a bit of ah...drama at home yesterday so I wasn't able to get around to it and then tonight AO3 was out intermittently for maintenance. But here it is! I know I hinted that you'd find out where Marco came from this week, but it'll have to wait just a little longer. I will still be updating on Saturdays, and I'll let you know if anything changes! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Now that he was standing in the living room, it occurred to Armin that there wasn’t very much for him to clean… Sure, some dusting and some vacuuming maybe, but there weren’t any huge messes to pick up. It probably wouldn’t take him very long at all. If that were the case, maybe he could try something more creative for dinner. But in the meantime… 

Armin had noticed a collection of CD’s in the living room next to a high-end looking sound system. If he could figure out how to play it, the music would be nice company in the quiet apartment while he worked. Either because he was quite clever or because it really wasn’t that hard, Armin managed to turn the speakers on and insert several of the CDs into the multi-disk player. He was pleasantly surprised to notice that he and Jean seemed to have a similar taste in music. The blond turned the music up to a volume loud enough to permeate the entire apartment and then decided to start in the bedrooms. Since his had hardly been used, making the bed sufficed for cleaning, but Marco’s room was another story. 

Somehow, in his haste to get the youngster out of bed earlier he had missed the mess. It wasn’t _trashed_ , per say, but it had the makings of it; clothes spilling out from the dresser, toys pushed unceremoniously into the closet and strewn about the floor – though thankfully not right in the middle of it. Armin was sure he would’ve noticed a Lego imbedded in the bottom of his foot at seven in the morning. – and bedding and stuffed animals strewn about and hanging off the bed. Heaven help him if Armin ever allowed Marco’s mess making abilities out of this room… He decided then and there that he was going to do this exactly once and from then on it would be Marco’s responsibility to clean his room – with Armin’s guidance of course. 

When he left the room it was immaculate, save for the rug which needed to be vacuumed, but Armin would vacuum everything later. In a strange way he found the whole process relaxing somehow. There was no pressure, no boss breathing down his neck or customers snapping for his attention. It was easy to lose himself in routines that were – despite the relative unfamiliarity of the setting – familiar and simple and soon enough he was singing and dancing along to the music. He wasn’t a very good dancer, but what difference did that make when he was alone and using the duster as a microphone?

So when the previous song ended – one of his favorites – and he heard someone clapping he started and nearly dropped the stupid thing. He saw Jean leaning against the wall and judging by his stance, he had been standing there for at least the few minutes. Armin hastened to pause the music. 

“What the hell! How long have you been standing there?” he demanded, hoping his angry tone was enough to distract Jean from the redness he could feel spreading across his cheeks. 

“Long enough,” Jean replied, sounding infuriatingly amused. “You sing pretty well. I didn’t think you’d like this kind of music though.” Armin’s eyes narrowed, trying to decide if he was being insulted. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” he retorted, deciding that he was, in fact, offended. 

“Yeah, but it’s lunch time. I just figured I’d come up here and-” 

“Check on me?” Armin asked. Judging by the pink hue coloring Jean’s cheeks, he had hit the nail on the head, despite his protests. 

“No, no, nothing like that. Just figured I’d come up here and have leftovers for lunch,” he said. 

“Uh-huh. Well they’re in the fridge,” Armin told him, nodding in that general direction. However, Jean didn’t move right away. He pushed himself off the wall and shifted his weight from one foot to another but didn’t move toward the kitchen. 

“Is there something else?” Armin asked, getting annoyed. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Jean had come up here to check on him and – presumably – make sure he wasn’t slacking off and then made fun of him, now he couldn’t get rid of him. 

“It looks nice in here,” Jean said. 

“Thank you,” Armin said somewhat stiffly. He hadn’t even done that much, so if Jean was trying to get himself out of trouble with some half-assed compliment, he was _so_ barking up the wrong tree. 

There was a further moment of silence in which Jean peered at him with narrowed eyes before finally shaking his head and departing. Armin watched him go and then rolled his eyes. It was a good thing the money made up for Jean’s weird attitude. Even after he could hear Jean clinking around in the kitchen he didn’t turn the music back on, and he made a point of waiting until Jean had left before he made his way into the kitchen to eat his own lunch and then clean in there. Jean had at least not made a mess with his dishes. At least there was that. 

By the time he finished cleaning he still had about a half hour before he had to go pick Marco up from school, so he decided to call Eren and at least leave him a voice mail telling him that he had gotten a new job and that they should all hang out this weekend. He was rather relieved that he didn’t have to talk to Eren just then…he had a feeling his friend would be upset when he found out who Armin was working for, and he didn’t want to risk affecting his performance in the restaurant. Even though it was only his second day at work, Armin was looking forward to a break and spending time with the two of them. It had been more than a week since he’d seen or really talked to either of them. Now that they were all out of school and working that wasn’t uncommon, but still…Armin missed them. 

He figured Eren wouldn’t call him back until later, so he decided to call Mikasa as well. He figured she was also at work, but they tended to be more lax about personal calls during the work day. It was good to hear her voice, even if it was only for a few minutes. As it turned out, Eren had taken Saturday off because the two had intended to come to his apartment and drag him out for some fun, not realizing that he had found something new and was less depressed than they had thought. Armin still made a point to tell her how grateful he was and make plans for Saturday evening before he hung up. Now to go get Marco. 

Like the day before, Marco was excited to see him, which made him feel strangely pleased. It would have been one thing if Marco had simply tolerated him, but the fact that the boy genuinely liked him made Armin feel quite proud of himself. Plus it was another thing to help make up for Jean’s strangeness. Once again Marco talked the entire way back, telling Armin more about the friends he was making and his teacher, Ms. Ral, and the fact that there would be show-and-tell days starting soon. 

“Can you help me make something?” he asked. Armin glanced at the rearview mirror to see the dark haired child looking at him hopefully. Armin thought again to the way he had seen Jean all but ignore him so far and instantly made up his mind. 

“Definitely! We can make anything you like,” he promised. Marco beamed.

“What about a spaceship?” he asked enthusiastically. 

“Um…sure. Maybe out of Legos though,” Armin agreed with an amused laugh. 

“Can it go into space?” Armin did his best not to laugh. 

“Not ours. But if you like spaceships maybe we can find some books about it,” he suggested. Surely the library would have children’s books about them…maybe he could even find a coloring book or two. 

“Okay! Do you think I can go to space some day?” 

“Sure! You can be an astronaut when you grow up; that’s what they call people who go into space,” Armin explained. 

“An assternut?” Once again, it was all Armin could do not to burst out laughing. Damn this kid was cute. 

The rest of the way home Armin coached Marco through the correct pronunciation of the word. To his credit, he almost got it. When they got back Armin made sure Marco hung his jacket up and didn’t leave his shoes in the middle of the door before he gave him an after school snack. Then he had him do his homework – he hardly figured it could be counted as such…it literally took Marco ten minutes to finish – before showing him his newly cleaned room. At least Marco seemed appropriately surprised. 

Armin made sure to explain that he wasn’t going to clean Marco’s room for him anymore, and if he wanted to keep it nice, he had to clean it – this of course wasn’t entirely true, since Jean was paying him to keep the place clean, but Armin figured it would help Marco learn responsibility. For the first time, Armin wondered whether he should be concerned about over-parenting. Granted, Jean didn’t seem to be doing much parenting but still…Armin was just an employee. He would have to talk to Jean and find out what his boundaries were, whether he was allowed to discipline Marco or if that should be left to Jean, or what sorts of rules he was allowed to set. 

For the first time, Armin felt as if perhaps he were being taken advantage of. Sure the money was good but…he was starting to realize that ‘some help with Marco’, really seemed to entail raising him. Perhaps, if he and Armin ever ended up on better terms, that was something else he and Jean could discuss. Or maybe it would make more sense if he ever fricking found out what the deal was or where Marco came from…

Once again, Armin forced the thought from his mind. Jean would probably tell him eventually. 

Probably. 

Hopefully. 

For dinner that night Armin made wild rice with breaded pork chops. He had – rather cleverly in his opinion – hidden the vegetables in the rice and watched with satisfaction as Marco unwittingly gobbled them up. Overall dinner was as pleasant as could’ve been expected. Marco told Jean many of the same things he had told Armin earlier – though Armin couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t the same level of enthusiasm and Marco didn’t ask Jean if he would help them build their spaceship – and Jean at least nodded along and made an effort to seem interested. Armin guessed the ramblings of a six year old weren’t very interesting to a corporate tycoon like him, but at least he didn’t show it. And then Jean – who Armin was becoming convinced only existed to torment him – mentioned that he had a date Saturday night and would need Armin to watch Marco. 

Armin’s surprise and disappointment must’ve shown on his face because Jean asked, “What, did you have plans already?” and Armin was sure he wasn’t imagining the tone of surprise in his voice, like Jean was shocked Armin had people to go out with. Did this guy really think Armin was such a loser? It took everything Armin had not to stand up and put Jean in his place, tell him that just because he had jumped at this job and he spent the majority of his time working didn’t mean he didn’t have friends, and that Jean could go ahead and jump right off his high horse because Armin didn’t see him hanging out with many friends.

Instead he said, “I did, yeah. I was going to go out with my friends, but I’ll tell them I have to work.” What could he do? Jean looked at him for a few seconds longer than Armin was comfortable with before he spoke. 

“Tell them to come here then, I don’t care.” Armin stared at him. He didn’t even know how many friends Armin had been talking about. And what would happen when Jean brought his date back here and wanted them gone? 

“A-are you sure?” Armin asked, unable to help but feeling surprised and grateful. Jean shrugged. 

“Yeah, why not. I mean you’re only talking a few people right? There’s beer in the fridge and liquor in the cabinet. Help yourself and don’t make too much of a mess, since you’ll have to clean it up anyways,” Jean said with a chuckle. Armin couldn’t sure if that was meant as a dig, but he decided not to take it as one. 

“Uh…thanks,” he mumbled, more into his plate than at Jean. He couldn’t decide how to feel about it…it was a nice gesture but…there was no reason for it, not really, and thus far Jean hadn’r really . 

“Don’t mention it. Thanks for dinner,” he said and then got up, taking his plate into the kitchen with Marco asking to follow not long after. 

It seemed like every interaction with Jean left Armin feeling more and more confused, which he made a point of mentioning to Eren and Mikasa on Saturday evening. As it turned out, after pressing Levi and Petra for information, Eren had discovered that Jean had been the owner, and though he had still been pissed, he understood that there wasn’t much they could do. But the more Armin told them about Jean, the less he seemed to like him. 

“If you don’t like him so much, why don’t you quit?” Mikasa asked. Armin looked over at her, exasperated. 

“Mikasa, you know why I can’t do that. I _need_ this job. Besides, if it pans out I can give up the apartment and start saving money to pay off my loans. Besides… Jean might be an ass, but…I’m really getting fond of Marco,” he said, glancing in the direction of the boy’s bedroom. 

“He is cute,” she agreed with a smile. Marco had been very excited when he learned that he’d get to meet Armin’s friends, and Eren and Mikasa had both been surprisingly good with him. They had even agreed to watch one of his favorite movies, Treasure Planet, during which Marco started falling asleep and Armin carried him to his bedroom and tucked him in. 

“And besides…I don’t really dislike him…he’s just, hard to get a read on. I have to get used to it is all. And…I know I’m just hired help, but maybe I can help the two of them connect better,” he admitted, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Eren raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, well don’t go getting in over your head Armin,” he said. Armin laughed. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter of Handle With Care and now here are a few notes! First note, I have decided to officially move the updates to Sundays, so there shouldn't be any more confusion or delay. Second, I know you're all curious about Marco and I _promise_ you will find out next week. Third, thanks so much for reading and I hope none of you are getting hit too badly by the snowstorm here in the Midwest.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Eren and Mikasa left – with Mikasa driving because Eren had had a little too much of Jean’s high-end liquor – at two in the morning Jean still hadn’t come home. Now that he thought about it, he supposed there wasn’t much of a reason to. No doubt whoever he went out with earlier had a perfectly good bed. Armin wondered if she was as pretty as the woman from the restaurant. Maybe it was the same one. Jean hadn’t mentioned anything, but then again, why would he? Armin was just the help, after all. Quietly Armin picked up the empty bottles and glasses and put them in the kitchen before going to bed. After such a late night, Armin would’ve liked to sleep in, but instead he was woken at eight by knocking on his door and Marco’s voice calling his name. 

“Armin wake up! Diego is on and I can’t make the TV work!” 

Armin suppressed a groan. It was too early for this… The blond dragged himself out of the warm, comfortable bed and allowed Marco to tug him into the living room by his sleeve. Once he found the proper channel, Marco plopped down silently on the couch with a stuffed dog in his arms, leaving Armin free to shuffle into the kitchen and make himself some coffee. 

He had just taken a seat at the counter and taken a sip when Jean walked in. His hair was slightly disheveled, his tie was hung loosely around his neck and the first two buttons on his shirt were undone. The sight of him made Armin’s mouth go dry. 

“M-morning,” he said, cursing the hoarse tone of his voice and hoping Jean wouldn’t notice. 

“Hey,” Jean replied, walking over to drop his drive-thru coffee cup into the trash. 

“You look tired,” he commented. “Rough night?” 

Armin shook his head. 

“No, just got an early morning wake up call,” he replied, nodding towards the living room where Marco could be heard giggling at something on the screen.

“Oh.” There was a slight pause and then Jean said, “You can go back to bed if you want. You’re off duty as of now.” Armin shook his head again. 

“I’m already up, I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep,” he explained. Jean nodded in understanding. 

“Well, I’m going to go shower.” 

“Okay. Don’t forget to say hi to Marco on your way,” Armin reminded him. Something about the way Jean looked at him when he said it made him feel oddly insecure, but the feeling was gone as soon as Jean left the room. 

As he worked on his coffee, Marco wandered in, greeting him in Spanish before asking Armin to get him a bowl for cereal. He helped Marco pour the cereal and milk and made sure he put them both away before carrying his bowl into the living room. Armin would have to find something else to keep him occupied besides the TV during the week, because he somehow doubted Jean would on the weekends… 

Armin was halfway through a bowl of oatmeal when the other man returned, now wearing a pair of jeans and a dark red pullover sweater. It was the first time Armin had seen him in anything other than business clothes and despite how good he looked in them, Armin somehow found the image of Jean in casual clothing even more appealing. Not that he’d ever say or do anything about it, of course. Armin knew very well that he could look, but not touch, and could only look if he didn’t get caught. He briefly wondered what would happen if it came out that not only was he gay, but he had the hots for his boss. He decided quickly that he didn’t want to know. 

Jean began rooting around the cupboards looking for something to eat, putting a mug under the brewer for another cup of coffee. There was silence except for the sound of the TV from the living room. Armin guessed he could strike up a conversation, ask Jean how his date was, or if he had any plans for the day, but somehow that seemed too personal for their relationship. Finally Jean stopped, facing away from Armin, his arms braced on the counter. After few seconds, he turned, leaning against the countertop and crossing his arms. Armin instantly got the feeling he was in trouble and his mind raced to think of something he might’ve done wrong. 

“I’m not an idiot. I know that people talk and I know that rumors are bound to spread,” he said. Armin waited for Jean to continue, clear on the subject, but unsure of where he was going. “I know you’re curious. But you haven’t asked.” Armin realized Jean was waiting for him to say something. 

“You made it clear it wasn’t my business,” he pointed out. 

“I know. And you respected that.” 

“I didn’t want to lose a job I’m still not sure I have,” Armin reminded him. To his credit, Jean looked at least a little uncomfortable. 

“Look, that’s not…I mean…the point is, if there’s anyone here who should know about it, it’s you,” Jean said, his words rushed. Armin, of course, agreed with him, but kept that to himself. Jean took a deep breath.

“Marco’s mom was just someone I dated a few times in college and the year or two after I graduated. It was never anything serious between that, and we both knew it. She ended up getting pregnant, but she knew I had no intention of getting married or settling down, so we agreed that I would pay child support and she would raise him. She uh…she died two weeks ago, and since I’m the father, I gained custody.” 

Armin stared at him, wondering how he could sound so…so nonchalant about it. 

“Maybe I’m out of line but…if you didn’t want him, wasn’t there someone else who could take him?” Jean looked up at him sharply and then rubbed a hand over his face. 

“Her parents all but disowned her after they found out she was pregnant. There’s no one else.” 

Armin wasn’t sure how to feel about the situation. On one hand, part of him pitied Jean – it was clear the man had little time for a son he hardly knew – but a larger part of him felt for Marco. He was just a kid, just a little boy whose mother was gone and who had a father who was completely new to him and that was clearly out of his depth. He wanted to say something, but what was there to say? 

“Does…does Marco know you’re his father?” Armin asked. 

“Of course he knows,” Jean snapped, “That’s not the kind of thing you keep from a kid.” 

Armin couldn’t argue with that. He wanted to ask what Jean telling him meant. Had he gained the man’s trust? Was the job his permanently? It still didn’t answer why Marco didn’t call him dad, especially if he knew. Perhaps now he could ask him, without feeling as though he was going behind Jean’s back. And maybe it would even be good for Marco. He had a hard time imagining Jean encouraging Marco to open up about it. 

“I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re looking for me to say,” he finally said. Jean shrugged. 

“I know I won’t be able to hide it forever, and it’s not like I’m ashamed or anything, it’s just…I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head.

Armin felt suddenly uncomfortable. They were getting dangerously close to a heart to heart here, and he could practically read all the emotions on Jean’s face. He was reminded that, in a situation like this, it was hard to know who he really felt worse for. He cleared his throat before the silence could grow too stagnant. 

“Uh, while we’re on the subject of Marco…there’s a few things I want to ask you about. How much should I be parenting him?” he asked. 

For a moment, Jean seemed confused. 

“I mean…am I allowed to reprimand him? Give him permission to go to friends’ houses? That kind of thing.” 

Once again, Jean looked awkward. 

“Yeah…yeah, you can do all that. No reason for you not to,” Jean replied. Armin got the feeling there was more that Jean wanted to say, but for whatever reason he didn’t.

Armin would like to say that after that conversation, things with Jean got easier, that suddenly they were able to carry on chummy conversations and everything was hunky-dory. But the real world didn’t work like that. Armin’s relationship with Marco continued to progress by leaps and bounds, but Jean might have well been a space alien for as well as the two of them were able to relate. Still, at the end of the day, that wasn’t really what mattered for the job, which he was assured was his on a permanent basis the following Thursday. Of course, the way Jean spoke made it sound like there had never been any question as to whether or not he would keep Armin on, which both flattered and annoyed him because it wasn’t like he had anything pressing to take care of, like getting out of a lease or anything. 

Still, he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. The fact of the matter was, he was now steadily employed for the first time since he graduated college, and without having to pay rent or much in the way of expenses, it felt good. Granted, a good chunk of that money would go towards paying off bills and loans, but for the first time he felt like he might have something of an actual future. Perhaps this new optimism showed, because as that first week turned into the first few he felt as if he found Jean looking at him more and more often. Then again, it was feasible that he was just so self-conscious about the idea of having to have another awkward conversation with him that he was just more aware of it, a sort of sense of self-preservation. But on the upside, now that he was certain of his relationship with Marco, he felt that perhaps finally he could bring up the question of Marco’s mother, and why he refused to call Jean dad. That night as he tucked Marco in, he stopped and took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“Marco, I want to talk to you about something,” he said. Marco looked up at him with big eyes. 

“Am I in trouble?” he asked in a small voice. Armin smiled and shook his head, reaching out to ruffle those tufts of dark hair. 

“Of course not kiddo, I just want to talk.” Marco instantly perked back up. 

“Jean told me what happened to your Mom,” Armin said gently, and damn, didn’t it just hurt when the eager smile slipped of the six year old’s face. 

“I miss her a lot,” he said quietly, looking down at the blanket. 

“I know. I felt the same when my grandpa died. Still do, sometimes,” Armin said. Marco looked up at him. 

“You do?” he asked, in a tone that indicated how surprised he felt that an adult could feel the same way he did. Armin nodded. 

“Does it ever go away?” Armin took a deep breath. 

“Well, yes and no. You’ll always miss her, but there will be other people that come into your life that make you happy again and make it hurt less.” 

“Like you?” Armin felt a strange tugging sensation in his chest at those words, and no dammit, those were not tears stinging his eyes. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak for a few seconds. 

“And maybe like Jean to,” he finally said, trying to steer the conversation back in a direction that was less likely to make either of them tear up. To his surprise, Marco’s freckled nose wrinkled and he shrugged. 

“You don’t like Jean?” Armin asked. Marco shrugged again, and honestly, Armin couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. He’d hardly seen the two of them exchange more than a few sentences in the last week. 

“You know he’s your dad, right?” Armin asked, despite knowing the answer to that question. Marco nodded, and busied himself with smoothing down the fur on the stuffed dog he was so fond of. 

“How come you never call him that?” Armin asked. Marco didn’t say anything. 

“Marco?” Armin asked, gently tugging the dog from him. Marco blew out a long breath. 

“Because Mama told me not to,” he said, catching Armin very much off guard. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When Mama was sick she told me that I’d have to go live my daddy soon, but she told me he might not be ready to be a daddy yet, so I shouldn’t call him that. Plus he’s kind of scary,” the boy said, pulling his toy back. 

Armin let him have it, trying to process this new information. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? It was clear that Marco’s mother had been right, but Armin wasn’t sure he would agree with her telling their son not to call Jean his father. Then again, Armin didn’t know anything about the relationship they might have had. 

“Jean’s not scary,” Armin said weakly. The look Marco gave him belonged on the face of an adult, not a six year old boy, and it silently called Armin out on his lie. Silence reigned for a few moments and then Marco spoke again.

“I wish you were my daddy, Armin.” 

Armin felt like he’d been punched in the gut. What was that Eren had said about not getting in over his head?

“Don’t say that Marco. I know it might be hard to see, but Jean cares about you.” 

“Okay,” Marco said in that, ‘if you say so’ tone. 

In that second Armin knew what he had to do. Marco was a kid, it wasn’t his job to reach out to Jean and honestly, maybe Armin didn’t know Jean very well, but he had seen enough to know that Jean wanted _something_ from Marco. Perhaps they both wanted the same thing. The sound of Marco yawning snapped Armin from his thoughts and he stood up, watching as Marco settled into the pillows. 

“Goodnight Marco, thanks for talking with me,” he said, clicking off the lamp and turning on the nightlight on Marco’s desk and projecting stars up onto the darkened ceiling. 

“Goodnight Armin,” the boy mumbled. Armin was halfway out the door when he heard Marco call his name softly. He stopped and turned back.

“…Thank you for talking to me too,” he said. And Armin heard all the things that a six year old didn’t know how to put into words but that Marco was feeling. 

“You’re welcome. Sweet dreams kiddo,” he said, watching as Marco rolled over and then closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you all finally know the secret behind Marco's origin! Hopefully the reveal was worth the wait for all of you. As always thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Armin could tell that when Jean came home from work on Wednesday he was surprised to find Armin decidedly not cooking. 

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, after they had greeted one another. 

“Pizza,” Armin replied, looking down at a delivery menu. 

“Didn’t feel like cooking?” Jean asked and Armin couldn’t tell what sort of tone he was using. It wasn’t like slacking off for one night could get him in that much trouble…besides, he had something else planned. 

“Not really, no,” he said. 

“Damn, and here I was starting to really look forward to your culinary prowess,” the man chuckled, opening the fridge to find something to drink. Okay, clearly he wasn’t mad – Armin was sure they both understood this wasn’t going to be a regular occurrence – and clearly that compliment hadn’t caused Armin to go red in the face, definitely not. 

“Anyways I thought we could have pizza and play some games together, the three of us,” Armin said. Behind him he heard Jean stop moving and Armin forced himself to continue. “I mean it’s kind of-” 

“What are you doing Armin?” Jean asked, and his voice had a strange tone to it that Armin hadn’t heard before. It sounded almost like resignation. 

“What do you mean?” Armin asked, trying to keep his voice light. 

“I mean it’s not your job to try and do…whatever it is you’re doing.” Armin whirled around, suddenly angry. 

“I have been here for three weeks and I have barely heard you two exchange more than a few sentences!” he snapped. “I know this is sudden, I know that you weren’t expecting to have to actually take responsibility for your own child, but you know what Jean? You do! You can’t just expect me to do it all. I care about Marco, okay? It sucks watching him have to tip-toe around you. And maybe his mom didn’t mean a whole hell of a lot to you, but she did to him, and now she’s gone and you can’t just pretend like he’s some temporary addition here. You need to start paying attention to him!” 

Jean stared at him, clearly at a loss for words but now that Armin had started he found he couldn’t stop. 

“Do you even know why he won’t call you dad? It’s because his mom told him not to. Because she knew that you weren’t ready to be a father and she had to explain that to him, to a six year old kid!” 

“You think that’s what I wanted?” Jean countered, finally having found his voice. “Do you really think I wanted him to come here after losing his mom and have to deal with having me for a parent? I’m not a family man, I don’t do bedtime stories or field trips or any of that bullshit, and I never wanted to have to, so excuse me if I’m not quite sure with how to deal with this! Do you think I like knowing that my son thinks I’m scary? Do you think it’s _fun_ for me to watch him open up to you and shut down whenever I walk into the room? I know you think I’m some self-centered, heartless prick, and I know you think I don’t want him, but that’s because you don’t know any more about me than I know about him. So don’t you fucking dare lecture me about this!” Jean was breathing heavily and staring at Armin with that challenging look, like he expected Armin to have some other witty response. Before he could think of anything to say though, Marco’s head peeked around the corner and Armin could see the ears of his stuffed dog, clutched tightly in his arm. The boy barely glanced at Jean. 

“Armin? Are you and Jean fighting?” he asked. Armin looked up to see Jean’s face crumple and the man quietly closed the fridge – which had been standing open this whole time – and walked down the hallway towards his bedroom. Armin felt like trash. He knelt down and beckoned the boy over, lifting him up into his arms. 

“No, we’re not fighting,” he said. Marco frowned.

“But I heard you yelling.” 

“Well…I said something that wasn’t very nice to him,” Armin admitted. 

“Oh. Why’d you do that?” Marco asked, and Armin couldn’t help but smile a little bit. Such a simple question that had such a not simple answer. 

“Because I didn’t know any better,” Armin said, answering as close to the truth as was possible as he walked into the living room and set Marco down on the sofa. 

“Was it about me?” the boy asked after a long pause. Once again Armin was struck by how intelligent he was. He was probably more perceptive than he and Jean combined. 

“Sort of,” Armin hedged. “But don’t worry. I’m going to go apologize right now, and then we’ll play our game, okay?” 

“And order pizza?” Armin smiled and nodded. 

“And order pizza.” 

This seemed to reassure Marco, so Armin left him on the couch, promising he’d be back soon and padded down the hallway. The blond hesitated outside Jean’s room and then took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He heard a muffled voice say something that might have been “Go away Armin,” but ignored it and pushed the door open anyways. Jean was sprawled face-down on the bed, his feet hanging off the side and his face buried in the comforter. 

“What part of go away didn’t you understand?” he asked, without lifting his head. Armin rolled his eyes. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t understand you with your mouth full of blanket.” 

There was a moment of silence and then a half-hearted, “I’m still your boss, you know.” 

“I know.” A sigh as Jean rolled over. 

“Seriously. What do you want from me?” 

“I wanted to apolize. I’ve…made a lot of assumptions about you and I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Jean’s eyes didn’t leave his face as he spoke, but Armin forced himself not to look away. His gaze lingered long after Armin had stopped talking. Finally the man looked away. 

“I still don’t know why you’re doing this, or what you expect to happen. I told you, I’m not dad material.” 

“I know you did. But I also know neither of you is happy with how things are.”

Jean snorted. 

“What are you, my shrink?” he muttered. Armin ignored him and continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. 

“As for why I’m doing this…” he paused and shrugged. “Consider it me trying to improve my working conditions if you want. All I’m asking is that you at least try to meet him halfway.” Jean sighed again. 

“I really just don’t get you Armin,” he said, and there was a sort of fondness in his voice that made Armin smile despite himself. “I’ll…try, okay?” Armin’s smile widened into a grin. 

“Come play a game with us then,” he insisted. For a second he seriously thought Jean would refuse. 

“Alright, fine, let me change out of my work clothes,” he finally agreed. Armin nodded and turned to go but Jean called him back, already in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. Armin looked determinedly away. 

“I like Hawaiian pizza, by the way.” Armin nodded quickly and rushed from the room. If he didn’t know better Armin might have said that had been deliberately unfair… With a shake of his head he went to the kitchen to order the pizzas; a large Hawaiian for him and Jean and a small cheese for Marco. When that was taken care of he went and had Marco help him clear off the coffee table in the living room and pick out a game. After a few minutes of thinking, Marco had narrowed it down between UNO and Sorry. He looked up at Armin. 

“Is Jean still going to play with us?” he asked. 

“Is it alright if he does?” Armin asked, meeting his questioning gaze. Marco seemed to consider for a moment. 

“I guess so…if you guys made up…” he agreed somewhat hesitantly. 

“Don’t worry Marco, your dad and I made up just fine, right Jean?” Armin asked, noticing that Jean had joined them. 

“Uh, right,” Jean agreed. Marco turned to look at him and Armin honestly had no idea what was going to happen. They just looked at each other and the seconds seemed to drag on and on and then finally Marco relented. 

“Okay,” he said in a surprisingly cheerful voice and rushed back to the coffee table with the board game. Armin practically heard Jean’s sigh of relief. 

“Is he always so…intense?” he asked. Armin laughed. 

“He’s testing you. I think you passed that one,” he explained. 

“Lucky me,” Jean muttered under his breath, but Armin could see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t going to be easy, but perhaps there was hope for them after all. 

The game started out tentatively, with Marco sitting much closer to Armin than Jean and both of them hesitantly announcing the cards they drew and reaching out to move their pieces. Armin did his best to keep it upbeat, even earning a giggle from Marco here and there and maybe even a smile from Jean. But finally - _finally_ \- they both seemed to loosen up. It started with Marco drawing a Sorry! card and bumping on of Jean’s green pieces back to his home space and laughing maniacally about it, and Jean promising to get him back – Armin hoped he wouldn’t have to remind him that it was just a game and that he should _not_ try to destroy Marco. The pizza arrived in the middle of the game and Armin went to go answer the door and bring them all plates. Marco’s nose wrinkled when he saw the Hawaiian slices in front of the adults. 

“You don’t like Hawaiian pizza?” Jean asked. 

Marco shook his head vigorously. 

“Don’t you like ham?” Marco nodded. 

“How about pineapple?” Again the boy nodded. 

“But not on pizza?” Marco shook his head. 

“Have you ever tried it?” Jean asked. 

“No…but it looks gross,” Marco insisted. Honestly, Armin wasn’t sure he disagreed. Hawaiian wasn’t his favorite either, and he hoped Jean would ignore the fact that he was silently picking the pineapple off of his pieces. But how could he miss it when he looked over to Armin for support? 

“Oh come on, seriously? You two have terrible taste,” he complained. Armin opted to keep quiet and let Marco stick his tongue out at Jean in his stead. This seemed – hilariously, in Armin’s opinion – to fuel Jean’s desire to beat the six year old at their game.

In the end, Marco ended up beating them, which could probably be mostly attributed to luck, but of course Armin didn’t spoil it for him by mentioning that, especially since it meant that Jean lost. But the brunette was a good sport about it at least, which relieved Armin a little bit. After the game was put away and the plates put in the dishwasher, Marco requested that they watch a movie. Armin expected Jean to retreat to his room, but much to his surprise and delight, Marco stopped him, albeit rather hesitantly. 

“Jean…do you want to watch the Lion King with us?” he asked. Jean looked at Armin in evident shock. Armin couldn’t blame him; the simple act of spending and hour or two playing a board game with the kid had led to a request the likes of which Jean had certainly never heard before. 

“Okay Marco,” Jean agreed. Marco smiled, and adorable shy little thing, and then raced to his room to get the movie. 

“Holy shit,” Jean muttered. Armin raised an eyebrow. 

“Just don’t go teaching him how to say that,” Armin reprimanded good-naturedly. 

“I know, I know but…holy shit,” he repeated. 

“You know it’s not always going to be this easy,” the blond reminded him gently. 

“Put a cork in it. And stop looking so frickin’ pleased with yourself,” Jean snapped, but Armin knew he was teasing. If anything it only made his shit-eating grin grow wider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry that this chapter came a little bit later in the day than I meant it to, but here's chapter 7! I've also made an important decision regarding this story; there were a few different plot lines I wanted to follow, and was originally having a hard time deciding on one, so I've decided that I'd rather touch on all of them and let this flow like a real slice of life story. What does this mean for you, you might be wondering. Well, it means that this will likely be a WIP for quite some time as I have no idea how many chapters it will take me to hit all the plot points I want to. So, while I know where the story is going, it will be a while before I get there. Anyways, I hope you've all been enjoying the story and will continue to do so! Thanks again! :D


	8. Chapter 8

Armin knew that after this latest breakthrough he had to be careful of two things. The first was allowing things to return to their previous state, and the second was pushing too hard. How he knew this, he wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t as if he’d ever had any formal training in psychology or anything like that, and of course the first issue was obvious – what good would it do to act like it had never happened at all? – but somehow he just knew that if he pressured Jean into moving faster than he was comfortable everything would blow up in his face. Quite frankly, Armin had experienced that too many times to let it happen again. He of course tried to ignore the fact that if he had just stayed out of it he wouldn’t be tiptoeing this fine line between happiness and heartbreak. Honestly though, it seemed like things were going just fine. What was the worst that could happen? That Saturday when Jean shuffled into the kitchen he seemed surprised to see Armin sitting at the counter doing a cross-word puzzle. 

“Morning,” Armin said, filling in one of the columns. 

“Morning,” Jean replied and set about making himself a cup of coffee. Armin knew him well enough at this point to know he wanted to say something – a fact which surprised him, because when had that happened? When Armin asked him what it was, Jean seemed to wonder the same thing. 

“How did you… nevermind. I was just wondering…you know you don’t have to stay here on the weekends, right? I may not be father of the year material but I can watch him for a few days,” he said. 

Armin wasn’t quite sure where the question had come from. Sure, he had only gone out once or twice since coming to work here but that was mostly because Eren and Mikasa were busy and he wasn’t going to go out by himself. Especially since it would be sort of difficult to hide it if he brought another man back to the penthouse. Still…was Jean trying to tell him that he would prefer it if he wasn’t around so much? Or that he resented the fact that he was? After what had come out during their argument, he couldn’t really say he was surprised. Either because he was more perceptive than Armin gave him credit for or because he had simply taken too long to answer, Jean seemed to backpedal. 

“I mean, it’s not that I mind. I like having you around. I just…don’t want you to think you _have_ to be here.” Armin shrugged and didn’t look up from the newspaper. He was definitely not going to read into that too much. Nope.

“My friend works as a sous chef in your restaurant and his wife is a cop. It’s hard to make plans to get together with them with jobs like that,” he explained. 

“Oh. And clubbing isn’t your scene?” 

“Not really, no.” Armin wasn’t being intentionally difficult, but this was easily the most personal conversation they’d had outside of talking about Marco and it was heading in a direction that could be dangerous for him. There was silence except for Jean sipping his coffee. 

“Is it because you have a hard time getting girls?” All at once Armin was reminded why he had disliked Jean so much at first. 

“No.” 

“Oh come on, I know how it can be. Let me guess, since they’re all there with your friends, you have a hard time getting one alone to talk to her, right?” 

“That’s not it.” Was this actually happening right now? 

“Or is because you can’t afford to buy them drinks?” Okay…would he get arrested for hitting him? Because Armin was really starting to consider it. 

“You know perfectly well how much I make.” He said scathingly. 

“It’s probably because you don’t have a car then. That usually turns girls off.” 

“For fuck’s sake Jean, I’m _gay_!” Armin finally snapped. Jean calmly took another sip of coffee as if Armin hadn’t just blurted out that he was a homosexual. 

“I know.” 

“You…what?” 

“I know,” Jean said, slower this time. 

“Then…then what…what the fuck was that?” Armin spluttered. Jean shrugged and pushed himself off the counter and started towards the living room. 

“I just figured it’d be better for both of us to have that out in the open.” And what the fuck was that supposed to mean? Was Jean trying to give him permission to bring dates back to the apartment or something? Or was it something else? And how did he even know in the first place?!

“You didn’t have to be such an ass about it!” he yelled, but the only response to that he got was a gasp and Marco’s voice saying, “Oooh Armin! You said a bad word!” The blond let his head thump onto the counter. He was going to strangle that man.

Still…Armin supposed it was a blessing. He wouldn’t have to hide his sexuality and obviously he wasn’t going to get fired for it. He ought to be happy. As a matter of fact, he was. And since he had Jean’s permission and all, maybe he would go out. Not to a club though…permission or not, it still wasn’t his scene, he hadn’t been lying about that. All those people having to practically scream to be heard over the thumping, bass-heavy music, running into the sleazy types that didn’t know how to take a hint? Totally not for him. Maybe he’d ask to use Jean’s laptop to check his email and see if there was anything in one of the various newsletters he had signed up for over the years – he wasn’t above signing up for things he’d probably never use if it meant saving a buck here and there. Or, if he was feeling superbly desperate he could google something. 

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the thought of how Jean would react to finding “ways to meet gay men that aren’t bars” in his browser history. Not for the first time Armin realized how pathetic his social life was. It wasn’t like he hadn’t made friends in college, but it became hard to keep up with everyone and drive out to see them in their new homes when he didn’t have a car and couldn’t afford to take time off work even if he did. He’d even lost touch with the few guys that he’d dated, despite all of them ending on friendly terms. He was sure they’d all moved to different areas or states, or countries even and had probably found people to settle down with at this point.

Armin sighed and stirred his coffee morosely. He had certainly hit a low if he was pining after exes. It was strange, but this was the first time he had really let his loneliness get to him in a long time. Maybe it was because now that he had a steady income and wasn’t constantly worrying about his future, he was instead worrying about the present. That was it. He was _not_ going to sit around moping all day, and deal with trying to pretend he was happy for Marco’s sake and try not to read into however Jean reacted about it. Fuck it. He was a grown ass man and he was going to go out, get drunk, and get laid. But first…

Armin stood up and walked to the living room where he found Jean on his laptop and Marco sitting on the floor playing with Legos. He decided to bite his tongue about that. After all, it was only Saturday morning and Armin had to admit, Jean was making much more effort these days. At least he had agreed to go along with Armin’s idea of a weekly “family” night at any rate, which seemed like no small victory to Armin. Not to mention he no longer retreated to his room right after work, and Armin had also noticed – for whatever reason – that Jean had not been on any dates in recent weeks. 

In any case, Marco was obviously warming up to the man, though there was still no whisper of the word “dad” – Armin had been substituting “your dad” in place of Jean’s name whenever he could lately, in the hopes that he could subliminally trick Marco into saying it himself, but it hadn’t happened yet – and Marco still mostly looked to Armin for all ‘important’ decisions, he no longer shied away from Jean and certainly had no problems talking his ear off or demanding they watch Diego together. Jean had handled this latest development with surprising grace, which probably explained why it was on in the background. Armin cleared his throat and Jean looked up at him. Something about his expression seemed peculiar but Armin couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

“Can I borrow the BMW for the afternoon?” he asked. 

“Sure, why?” Armin fidgeted feeling suddenly insecure. 

“Well, I figured I’d go out tonight, and I want to go shopping.” Armin expected Jean to laugh, because somehow it felt like he was admitting that had been right. But the man only looked at him for a moment and then said, 

“Oh.” His tone was flat, and for some reason that Armin couldn’t explain it made him feel…guilty? It felt as if somehow he was disappointing Jean. But that was stupid, because what reason would Jean have for being disappointed? 

“Can I come? Can I? Can I?” Marco piped up, leaving Armin glad for the sudden distraction, even if he wasn’t sure he wanted to have to keep track of Marco while he shopped.

“Well, I guess you can come with. You could use some new clothes anyways,” Armin said with a wicked grin. Marco made a face. 

“ _Clothes_?” he whined. 

“Yep. Pants and socks, lots of socks,” 

“Ewwwwww! No, I’ll stay here with Jean, and we’ll play games without you,” Marco said, sticking his tongue out. 

Armin grinned and determinedly didn’t meet Jean’s eyes as he left the room. The idea of spending money on clothes whose sole purpose was to make him look good was a foreign one to Armin. Even when he was in high school he picked up most of his clothes from the thrift stores, so now he wasn’t quite sure what to do when confronted with price tags in the triple digits. He quickly realized, after asking an employee where the bargain rack was and having them nearly laugh in his face, that he’d have to suck it up if he wanted to look good tonight, and he did. One little splurge wouldn’t hurt, right? A few hours and an amount he didn’t care to think about later, Armin left the mall and headed back to the apartment to shower and get ready. 

“Well? How do I look?” Armin asked, stepping into the living room. He was wearing a pair of – properly – fitted black pants and a deep purple v-neck. He wondered if Jean got this sort of confidence boost from those tailored suits he was always wearing. Jean – who was lounging on the couch now with his laptop put away – didn’t even look up. 

“You look fine,” he said. Armin might’ve crossed his arms and glared at him but Marco caught his attention before he could. 

“Are you going somewhere Armin? You look really fancy. Is purple your favorite color?” Armin chuckled. 

“Yes, I’m going out for the night Marco. And no, purple isn’t may favorite color but I like it a lot,” he explained. Marco nodded as if he were hanging on Armin’s ever word. 

“Can I put a braid in your hair? Bailey in my class taught me how,” he said. Jean snorted from his place on the couch but Armin was too busy being charmed by the kid to pay him much mind. 

“Not tonight Marco. How about tomorrow?” Marco pouted. 

“But it would make you look really cute!” the six-year old protested. 

“Leave him alone Marco,” Jean chided none to gently. What the hell was his problem? Marco huffed. 

“Fine,” he said, and Armin as quite sure he heard the boy mutter something like, “meany-head” under his breath as he returned to his action figures. Armin chuckled to himself and moved to press a kiss to the top of Marco’s head. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay kiddo?” he said. Marco beamed up at him and nodded. 

“Have fun Armin,” he said. Armin assured him he would and then headed into the kitchen to put his shoes on and get the keys. He didn’t expect to hear Jean clear his throat from behind him. 

“Thought clubbing wasn’t your thing,” he said. Armin shrugged. 

“It’s not, but I figured a change of pace would be good for me,” he replied. Jean just grunted in response and Armin was sure he was imagining the feeling of Jean’s eyes on him because that would be just plain creepy and not something he would want at all. Which was exactly why he was imagining it, right? Oh hell, he needed to get out of here. 

“Well, have a good time,” Jean said and Armin was sure he wasn’t imagining the half-heartedness of his tone. 

“Yeah…I will.” The two stood there for a moment and then Armin finally turned away, unable to stand it any longer. 

“Hey Armin,” Jean called as he was halfway out the door. “You look good, by the way.” 

Armin grinned and – in a surprising burst of self-confidence – winked at Jean before heading out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we see a little bit more development in Jean and Marco's relationship this week, and a surprising turn in Armin and Jean's. But now that Jean knows Armin is gay, where will it lead?
> 
> Anyways, I'm going to try and get ahead in my writing so that Spring Break doesn't cause any unexpected delays, but if it does I hope you'll all understand. Thanks to all of you who have been reading, and especially to those who have taken the time to leave comments; you are literally the best.


	9. Chapter 9

Of course it was only after he had driven to the club and parked that he realized the major fault with his plan; now that the car was there he would either have to not get drunk or call a cab and hope they didn’t tow the car if he left it there overnight. Maybe it was because he was early or because the club just wasn’t that popular, but there was no line outside and after the bouncer checked his ID he was able to get in no problem. Now came the part he hated; mingling. But he was sure that after he had a few drinks in him the prospect of dancing with a total stranger wouldn’t seem so bad, so he started at the bar. 

He felt like an idiot sitting there alone. He didn’t want to catch the eye of every other guy that walked past him alone, but if he sat there with his back to everyone he was likely to go unnoticed. He ordered something called a Fuzzy Navel – Armin was a simple man with simple tastes and knew little about the world of mixed drinks, he’d admit – and turned to face the dance floor, trying to make it seem like he was interested but not desperate. He kept getting the feeling that someone had their eyes on him, but when he scanned the area he didn’t see anyone looking his way, so he chalked it up to a residual feeling of unease at being in such a crowded place. He was a quarter of the way through his third drink when something finally happened. 

A tall, broad-shouldered blond man walked up to him and sat down on the stool next to him. Armin swiveled to face him with a smile that was much larger than strictly necessary. Up close the man was no less attractive than he had been from across the room, with his square jaw, high cheekbones, and deep eyes. 

“Well hi there,” Armin said flirtatiously. 

“Hi yourself,” the man replied and his smile made his handsome face seem even more so.

“Are you the one who’s been watching me all night?” Armin asked, feeling emboldened by the slight buzz of alcohol in his system and the fact that he was right. The way the man smirked and reached out, brushing Armin’s hair back from his temple. 

“I’m afraid you caught me, but what can I say? I liked what I saw,” he said frankly. Armin grinned and if his cheeks hadn’t already been flushed from the liquor he would have let them turn that way without a fight. 

“Yeah? Do you still like what you see?” Armin quipped. The man grinned in a way that Armin found a little predatory and extremely sexy. 

“Very much so. I’d like it even better if you told me your name,” he replied. Armin grinned. 

“It’s Armin. You?” 

“Erwin Smith.” 

“Well, _Mr. Smith,_ now that we’re acquainted I’m sure you won’t mind having a dance with me,” Armin half asked, half demanded, already getting up out of his chair. He reached out to grab the arm that had not left Erwin’s side since he sat down, but stopped when he felt his fingers wrap around something other than the warm, forgiving feel of flesh. It was hard, whatever it was. His eyes snapped to Erwin’s face to find the man looking at him evenly. 

“It’s a prosthetic,” he said. 

“Oh.” Erwin continued looking at him, no doubt trying to gauge his reaction. Eventually Armin rolled his eyes. 

“If you’re waiting for me to run screaming, you’re going to be waiting a long time. I doubt a fake arm is going to have much effect on your dancing,” he said. To his surprise Erwin laughed. 

“Fair enough. After you then,” he said and Armin led him out onto the dance floor. 

As it turned out, Erwin was a pretty good dancer, and later when Erwin got them a cab back to his place, Armin found out he was just as good in bed. Exhausted and sated, Armin couldn’t even bring himself to worry about the fact that he was falling asleep in a near stranger’s bed. When he woke up the next morning he was alone in the bedroom, but he could hear the sound of movement from another room. 

There was a glass of water and what appeared to be some Tylenol on the nightstand next to him. Armin gratefully reached for both and downed the glass before getting up to search for his clothes. While he got dressed he looked around, taking in details he hadn’t noticed the previous night. Everything was meticulous; the remote aligned perfectly with the edge of the nightstand on Erwin’s side of the bed, the shirts arranged by color in the open closet, the shoes on the floor all neatly in a row. Armin couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the man had OCD. Not that he’d care but it made him wonder if perhaps he ought to make the bed before going out. Then again…the sheets probably needed to be changed and he decided it was best to leave that to his host. 

Once he was fully composed he made his way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where he heard the sound of running water. Armin cleared his throat and Erwin turned around to smile at him. 

“Good morning,” he said. Armin checked the clock to make sure that it was indeed still morning and returned the greeting. “Did you sleep well?” The blond nodded. 

“Yeah. How long have you been up?” he asked. Erwin shrugged. 

“A few hours. I don’t sleep in well. Old habit, I guess.” Armin arched an eyebrow.

“I was in the military for most of my life. No late mornings there,” he explained. Armin couldn’t help but feel suddenly humbled at the realization that Erwin had likely lost his arm in the line of duty, and for some reason, embarrassed for having slept so late. 

“Anyways, would you like breakfast? I was waiting for you to get up before I made anything.” 

“Oh uh…sure. Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. 

He was surprised by how little uneasiness he felt. It wasn’t like being here was the most natural thing in the world but he felt comfortable, at least. That had to be a good sign, right? Erwin made a fairly simple breakfast with some scrambled eggs and toast and Armin watched him unabashedly as he did it. They talked while they ate and while Armin did the dishes afterwards; Erwin told him a bit about his time in the military – Armin got the impression that he had been a fairly high ranking officer – and Armin told him about his job with Jean and Marco. He did have to admit that Erwin mentioned an ex maybe once or twice more than he was strictly comfortable with, but then again, Armin also had a lot to say about Jean so he supposed it evened out. It wasn’t until Armin was getting ready to leave that he realized that he had left the BMW at the club. 

“Shit! Jean’ll be so pissed if it got towed!” 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, that sort of thing happens a lot. Besides it’s a Sunday, it’s not like the meter police are out today. Tell you what, I’ll drive you over there.” Armin froze. 

“Really? You’d do that?” Erwin shrugged. 

“Why not? It’s not very far. Then you won’t have to pay for a cab and I can enjoy a bit more of your company,” Erwin said. Armin didn’t give a second thought to kissing him in gratitude. 

The drive back to the bar was honestly the most uncomfortable length of time that Armin had experienced with the other man, though Armin wasn’t sure why that would be. Finally, as they were pulling back into the lot it came out.

“I know you said you work all week, but are you free next Friday night?” Erwin asked as he pulled into the spot beside the BMW. Armin looked at him. 

“Probably, why?” 

“Well, I was hoping this could be more than a one night stand and was hoping you’d go to dinner with me,” Erwin said. Armin was sure he was dreaming. Was he getting asked on a _date_? He grinned, feeling elated. 

“I would love to,” he said, meaning it. 

They exchanged cell phone numbers and Armin leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek before getting in the car and heading back to the hotel, unable to believe his luck. When Armin got back to the hotel he was greeted by a gleeful shout and a running leap by Marco. Armin was fortunately able to catch him and pick him up rather than them both being knocked over. 

“Well hello to you too,” he said, carrying Marco to the living room to plop him onto the couch. When he turned around, Jean was standing there in sweat pants and a t-shirt. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey,” Armin replied, and the two just looked at each other.

“I’m guessing you had a good night?” Jean finally asked, and it was like the spell was broken and the feeling that was totally not guilt disappeared. 

“Definitely. I even uh…well, I got a date out of it, for next Friday.” The look on Jean’s face changed immediately. 

“You what?” 

“I got a date. Is that a problem?” Armin asked, the sudden change leaving him feeling oddly defensive. Jean seemed to catch himself though and shook his head. 

“No, no, sorry. Just surprised is all. Anyways, now that you’re back I’m going to go get dressed; I’ve got a few errands to run,” he said. 

The abrupt end to the conversation left Armin feeling strangely deflated. He didn’t know why, but he expected Jean to maybe be happy for him, or something. It had started to feel like they were friends at least… well, if he was honest, sometimes it felt like more than that, though Armin couldn’t say why. But it didn’t matter because Jean was his employer and Armin had a date with Erwin, and maybe it might lead to more than just a single date. The idea of having a boyfriend again was foreign, but extremely welcome in Armin’s opinion. 

Still, Armin couldn’t deny that it made something about the next week strange. It didn’t change anything with Marco; Armin picked him up and dropped him off and took him grocery shopping with him like usual, but Jean was another story – as per usual. It seemed like nothing was ever simple with the brunette. Armin caught him staring at him more than once, but there was a sort of urgency in his gaze, like there was something he was trying to convey that Armin just wasn’t getting. But every time Armin tried to start a conversation about it, Jean seemed to have nothing to say or was in a sudden hurry to rush out the door. 

Eventually Armin decided he would just be better off to letting it go and before he knew it, Friday had rolled back around and he was getting ready for his date with Erwin. Jean had been silent and petulant the last hour he’d been home but Armin had too much on his mind to worry about it. What would they talk about? What if, at the end of the day, they didn’t have anything in common? Armin shook his head and went to go get his shoes. He was about to leave when Jean stopped him. 

“Armin look I-” 

“Can it wait Jean? Erwin is already waiting downstairs,” Armin said. 

He felt a little bit bad for interrupting like that, but honestly, he had been dealing with Jean’s childish behavior all week and he didn’t want to have to deal with even more on his mind while he was trying to enjoy his dinner. 

“…Yeah. See you later.” 

Armin couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he left. Hypocritical of him or not, he wished Jean would just say what was on his mind. It was unlike him to be so reserved and secretive and Armin decidedly did not like it. Overall it was a pleasant date, but Armin realized about halfway through that he and Erwin could never work as a couple. Sure, the guy was nice and he was smart and he was handsome. But he was also still hung-up on his ex and Armin wasn’t going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole. So, he asked Erwin to take him back to the hotel afterwards and, as gently as he could, tried to explain that he just wasn’t interested in a relationship at the moment. A lie of course, but Erwin didn’t need to know that. Besides, it sounded like this wasn’t the first time this sort of thing had happened between them, and if Armin was right, they’d probably end up together again in the relatively near future. 

So, that left Armin back a square one, but hey, at least he’d gotten some sex out of it, so there was that at least. For some reason though, Armin didn’t tell Jean any of this. He supposed he could say it was because that wasn’t something that came up in conversation but…for some reason he wanted Jean to bring it up, if only so Armin could be certain that he wasn’t imagining Jean’s attitude toward the situation. Fortunately, Jean didn’t disappoint. 

“So how’s your boyfriend?” he finally asked nearly a week later as the two sat on the couch watching TV – Jean was lying on his back, with his legs across Armin’s lap, which had become fairly common between them in the last month. Armin rolled his eyes. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, we went on one date. Besides, he’s just out of a relationship, and let me tell you, he is _so_ not over it, and I am _not_ gonna be someone’s rebound,” Armin said simply. 

“Oh. Well good,” Jean said. Good? Armin snorted. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were jealous,” he said. 

“Maybe I am.” And if the words weren’t enough, the look in Jean’s eyes set Armin’s heart pounding in his chest. He swallowed. 

“You are, huh?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. 

“That’s right.” Jean was sitting up now, with a leg tucked beneath him and the other dangling off the side so he could face the blond. 

“A-and why is that?” Armin asked, licking his suddenly dry lips. It was impossible to miss the way Jean’s eyes followed his tongue, and the look in them was one that not even Armin could mistake. 

“Because…” Jean said, sounding breathless. And oh God, Armin was sure he wasn’t imagining the way he was leaning towards him. Instinctively Armin leaned forward putting his hand on Jean’s knee. At his touch though, Jean blinked and pulled away. 

“Because then you’ll be out having all the fun while I stay home and watch Marco.” And just like that, the moment – whatever it was – ended, leaving Armin feeling acutely disappointed as Jean got up and walked out of the room. And he was sick of letting Jean control how he was feeling. 

“Hey!” he called. Jean stopped and turned to face him.

“What?” 

“What was that? Just now? And don’t try to play dumb with me! You have been staring at me all week, you tell me you’re jelous and then run away. What is going _on_? I mean do you-” Armin was cut off mid-sentence by Jean closing the gap between them and pushing Armin against the wall, crushing their lips together. The heat and the spark Armin felt from the press of Jean’s lips against his took Armin’s breath away and he found himself responding fervently. Jean pulled away to press kisses up Armin’s jaw and to his earlobe. 

“I can’t help it. I don’t want you going out with anyone else. I don’t know what it is about you, but I want you all to myself,” he murmured, sending shivers down Armin’s spine and irritating him all at once. 

“What about you? You go out on dates,” he replied breathlessly as Jean’s hand slipped up his shirt. The brunette pulled away to meet his eyes.

“Do I?” And Armin realized the answer was no. Not since that first date he’d gone on just after Armin moved in. He was distracted by the feeling of Jean nipping at neck, biting down on the spot where it met his shoulder. 

“J-jean…don’t…you’ll leave a mark,” he groaned. Even as good as it felt, he didn’t really want any visible marks. Jean just chuckled against his skin. 

“Why? Afraid your boss won’t like it?” he teased. Except it had the same effect as someone dumping ice water over Armin’s head. He shoved Jean away and shook his head. 

“Wait. Wait…you…you’re my boss. We can’t…no. I’m not going to do this with you. I can’t. You’re my employer for christ’s sake!” This instantly sobered Jean up and he took a deep breath. 

“Look…I know I’ve been an ass, and I know you’ve got no reason to give me a chance but…I’m not looking for a one-time thing. I mean…I really…I know this sounds stupid, but I really like you. How could I not? You’re so good with Marco and you put up with me. You’re smart and funny and I just…” he paused and shrugged. “I know I’m your boss, but we can figure that out if you’d just…I’d really like you to give me a chance. Please.”

Armin blinked, feeling like someone had just sucked all the air from his lungs. Had Jean just…asked him to give him a chance at a relationship? Sure, now that he thought about it, all of Jean’s behavior made a million times more sense, and it wasn’t like Armin wasn’t open to the idea but… 

“No. I…I can’t. I can’t risk it. I’m sorry, I’m sure you mean well and all, but if it doesn’t work out I can’t…risk you firing me or…or…I’m sorry Jean, but the answer is no. Please don’t do anything like that again,” he said, though he couldn’t meet Jean’s eyes as he said it, because he didn’t want to see the kind of hurt it caused. 

“Right. Sure. No problem.” And god, Armin just hated that fake tone, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal and like Armin hadn’t just completely shot him down. Jean cleared his throat. 

“Well I’m gonna…go to bed. I’ll go pick Marco up from his friend’s in the morning if you’ll leave the address on the counter,” Jean said, much too formally for Armin’s liking. He barely even had time to respond to Jean’s request before the man was down the hall and in his room, leaving Armin wondering if he had just made a huge mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there are a few things I need to address about this chapter, primarily the addition of Erwin/Armin. As I said before, I want this to be as realistic as possible and it seemed natural (to me at least) for Armin to entertain the idea of dating someone else. It's unlikely that anything like this will be seen again, and since I didn't get into it too much and it was primarily a plot enhancer, I did not and will not add their relationship to the tags. Hopefully this isn't an issue for anyone. Also i'm sorry that the update came so late today; while I felt the story needed it, writing the pairing was difficult and took a lot longer than usual. Things should move relatively smoothly from here and I hope you guys will stick around to enjoy it! As always, thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

Armin wasn’t really sure what to expect now. At first he was worried; what if Jean fired him for turning him down? That wasn’t something he had considered in the heat of the moment. What would happen to Marco if he left? Who would make sure Marco and Jean kept talking? Where would Armin stay if Jean kicked him out? But he didn’t wake up to some sort of notice taped to his door telling him he had twenty-four hours to leave, and when Jean returned from picking Marco up, there was no mention of it either. After Saturday passed, Armin supposed he was in the clear. In that regard anyways. Everything else was just a mess.

For his own sake, perhaps, he wanted Jean to just get over it. It couldn’t have been that big a deal, could it? They’d only known each other for a few months and just because they lived together and talked every day and were raising a kid together didn’t mean they knew the first thing about each other - although Armin knew everything from Jean’s favorite flavor of jam to his shirt size, but that didn’t count – so surely Jean couldn’t be that broken up about it. Besides, it wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d ever been rejected. So Armin expected – or hoped, rather – that Jean would just move on and jump back into the dating scene. He expected to have his weekends – meager though they were – cut short in favor of watching Marco. 

But that didn’t happen, not the first week, and not the week after that either. Their routines stayed almost entirely the same, even their family game nights. In fact, if Armin didn’t know better, he’d say that things had gotten better since that night. But he did know better. Because although the fact that he and Jean were in a strange place seemed to be fueling Marco and Jean’s relationship, Armin wouldn’t be fooled into pretending he didn’t know what had caused it. 

“This really isn’t fair to him,” Armin finally said one night, after Jean returned to the living room from tucking Marco in, which was happening more and more frequently these days. 

“What do you mean?” Jean asked, picking up some of Marco’s various toys and depositing them into the basked labeled 

“Marco’s room” in the corner. For some reason the gesture irked Armin. That was his job after all, wasn’t it? 

“I mean you putting more effort towards him to try and win me over,” he said. Jean turned and looked at him. 

“So that’s what you think I’m doing?” he asked. Armin nodded stubbornly. 

“You were getting better, but you never paid him this much attention before,” he said resolutely, certain that he was right. 

“Is it working?” Jean asked. Armin gaped at him. 

“Are you kidding right now? This is a child we’re talking about! You can’t just-” 

“Relax, Armin. Would it kill you to have a little more faith in me? That’s not what I’m doing.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes really. I’ll admit, if it’s scoring me brownie points with you, I won’t complain but really…this might sound stupid but paying him more attention makes me feel better. It’s harder to get bummed out over you when he’s talking about that Diego show or asking me to build a spaceship out of Legos with him. He just says the most adorable, ridiculous things, you know?” Jean explained, trying to make it look as if he were more interested in picking a movie than having this little heart to heart. 

Armin swallowed, unsure of what to say. Jean wasn’t lying, was he? But this seemed so…uncharacteristic, and out of the blue. Once again Armin realized he had been considering Jean in assumptions, and once again he found they were wrong. Why was he always so wrong about this man? Why was he so determined for Jean to be the bad guy, for him to be the self-centered, immature jerk whose only concern was his appearance and his bank account? Jean wasn’t like that at all, and he had proved that to Armin over and over again. He was a hard worker and he could be intense, but he had given Armin this opportunity, his trust with his car and his credit card, and most importantly his son. He had changed his work schedule to be home more, even if he didn’t know what to do with that time at first. And he had let Armin far overstep his bounds more than once in his quest to mold Jean into a better parent. And yet here he was, assuming Jean was so shallow as to use Marco as a pawn to get Armin in bed. He was pitiful, and he was starting to think that even if Jean still wanted him, Armin didn’t deserve him.

“Mind if I put this on?” Jean asked. 

Armin looked up to see him holding some action movie and nodded, realizing with disappointment that the moment for him to say something in response to Jean’s confession had passed, which made him feel that much worse. Jean had told him something very personal just now, and Armin hadn’t even acknowledged it, having been too busy trying to sort out his own thoughts. By the time Jean had set up the television and settled back in, Armin knew there wouldn’t be another opportunity to bring it up - at least not that evening. 

But even as Armin lay in bed later that night he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even in the midst of all his conflicting thoughts and feelings he couldn’t help but be flattered that Jean still seemed to be holding out for him. He knew he wasn’t being presumptuous to think that Jean would have no problem finding someone else to date, steadily or not. The fact that he hadn’t left Armin feeling…happy, to say the least. But it also added to the feeling that he was being incredibly unfair to Jean. Why should he be happy that Jean was out of the dating scene if he was really certain that he didn’t want to give Jean a chance? 

Well, if he was honest it was because the truth was he _did_ want to give Jean a chance. Sure, the guy was rough around the edges and sometimes he just infuriated Armin, but Armin had never really met anyone like him before. It was a mystery to him, the way Jean could say something that made Armin want to smack him and kiss him at the same time. And Jean kept saying he wasn’t dad material, but despite that he really was making an effort, and Armin would have to be blind and stupid not to be impressed by that. Not to mention Armin had been attracted to him since the moment he walked into that restaurant and turned his entire life upside-down. 

There were a lot of reasons Armin could think of to give Jean a chance, just like there were a lot of reasons he could think of not to. What did Jean expect from him? How would things change if they actually ended up in a serious relationship? How would Marco react? What would happen – to all of them – if things went south? At the end of the day it all boiled down to one thing; he and Jean needed to talk. 

At the time, getting out bed and stepping silently down the hallway to Jean’s room had seemed natural, but as he stood outside the door it occurred to him that maybe now was not as a good a time as any. He gave a shake of his head. He was here now, and he was – almost – certain that Jean would still be awake. Besides…now they could talk without fear of Marco overhearing or interrupting, and Armin honestly didn’t think he could stand it another day if he didn’t get this off his chest. Steeling himself, he knocked on the door. 

There was a pause before Jean called, “Come in,” and it was clear from his tone that he had no idea why someone would be knocking at his door just then. Armin swallowed and pushed the door open.

Jean was sitting up in bed – shirtless, much to Armin’s dismay – obviously having just turned on the lamp on the table beside his bed. He looked very confused, and Armin couldn’t blame him. 

“Um…I…we need to talk,” he finally said. Jean frowned.

“Uh…okay, can it wait?” he asked. Armin bit his lip. 

“I’d rather it didn’t, if you don’t mind.” Jean stared at him for a moment, trying to figure him out and then shrugged. 

“Okay, if it’s that important. Um,” he looked around as if searching for a place for Armin to sit. Finally he gestured to the bed, pulling his legs up so he was sitting cross-legged and there was room for the blond. Armin sat down cautiously, looking down at the pattern on the comforter but not saying anything right away. 

“So…you wanted to talk?” Jean reminded him and Armin could tell he was doing his best not to sound impatient. Armin’s first instinct was to ask if Jean had been serious about asking for Armin to give him a chance, and if he were anything but a twenty-five year old man, he might have. But Jean wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t been serious; Armin knew him well enough to know that or certain. But he still didn’t know how to put everything he’d been thinking into words. Eventually Jean sighed. 

“Look, it’s kind of getting late and I have to work tomorrow so…” 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to figure out how to say it. I just…I’ve been thinking about what you said the other week,” he said. Jean was looking at him intently but didn’t try to interject. 

“I know I turned you down but….it wasn’t because I don’t…it’s not like I didn’t like the idea of it,” he said. Jean’s response surprised him. 

“I know that. You wouldn’t have kissed me back if you had,” he pointed out. Armin hadn’t considered that – it soothed the underlying question of why Jean had continued to hold out after being rejected as he had. 

“Oh. Well…I mean-”

“I can’t change the fact that you’re my employee. I mean, I can, but the way you talk and the way you looked when I gave you this job…I know you can’t afford that. And I can’t afford to find someone else. I wouldn’t be able to anyways. And that’s part of why I feel how I do about you. So I know it puts you in a difficult position – it puts me in one too. But I was tired of hiding it, and when you went out with that Erwin guy…it just pissed me off. That’s not the way I was planning on telling you but…you know me. I just say whatever comes into my head sometimes.” At this Armin smirked. He knew that very well indeed. 

“Well, like I said, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I want to give you a chance. And I want to make it clear that it’s not because you’re my boss and I feel like I have to or because you’ve guilted me into it somehow, or because you’ve suddenly stepped up to the plate to become dad of the year,” he said. Jean laughed and it sounded wonderful to Armin. 

“I already told you, that’s not why I was doing that.” 

“I know, just covering my bases,” Armin said. There was silence again before Jean asked, “So I’m guessing that’s not all you wanted to talk about?” And god wouldn’t he have loved that to be the end of the conversation so he could just lean forward and kiss Jean. But he knew it couldn’t be. He heaved a sigh and shook his head. 

“No…it’s just…what about Marco? Is this something we can tell him? What happens if things go bad? And-” He was cut off by Jean’s hand over his mouth and the man was looking torn between amusement and exasperation. 

“Hell Armin, you know I don’t have the answers to that stuff,” he said. “We’ll…figure it out as we go, okay? I don’t know about Marco just yet. I mean…maybe we should wait and see where we end up first, you know?” 

Armin had to admit, it was probably one of the most reasonable things Jean had suggested. Armin nodded and pulled Jean’s hand away but didn’t let it go. He held it in his hands, examining Jean’s long fingers and tracing his own along them and up Jean’s arm. The other man closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment as Armin’s hand made its way up to the side of his face and the blond brushed a thumb over his cheek bone. 

“I don’t know where to go from here,” Armin admitted, pulling his hand away. “I mean…it seems stupid to go on a date since we know each other so well but…I’ll admit it’s not like I’m ready to jump in bed with you right this second either,” he said. He half expected Jean to ask why not, but to his surprise the brunette nodded.

“I don’t really know either. But I’d like to kiss you,” he said and pulled Armin closer. But it was Armin who closed the gap between them and kissed Jean with fervor, which Jean returned in kind. This time Armin knew what he was getting into, and there was no hesitation. When they broke apart, both breathless Jean grinned at him and Armin returned the smile and then leaned in again. Jean didn’t seem to mind for he pulled Armin closer still, until the blond was practically straddling him and he could reach up to tangle his fingers in Armin’s hair. Armin groaned unabashedly and wrapped his hand around the back of Jean’s neck. Armin had to force himself to pull away. 

“Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely honest for me to say that I’m not ready to sleep with you,” he breathed as Jean slipped his hands under Armin’s sleep shirt to run them up and down his back. Jean just smirked and leaned up to kiss under Armin’s ear. 

“But…?” he asked, and it was drawn out, teasing and sensuous. 

“But I think maybe it’s not such a g-good idea just yet,” Armin replied, struggling to get the words out as bit down gently on his neck, on almost the same spot he had chosen when Armin had pushed him away last time. This time Armin didn’t resist. After a moment though, Jean shifted to simply rest his forehead on Armin’s shoulder. 

“I guess I shouldn’t complain about you making this difficult since you’re agreeing to give me a chance,” he muttered. This time Armin laughed and it felt easy and nice. Somehow he could just see it working out. And Jean was right…they didn’t need to have all the answers just then. Armin had lived most of his life trying to plan things and getting frustrated and dejected when those plans fell apart. What was the worst that could happen if he just played it by ear? 

“I wish you would stay,” Jean muttered and Armin had to admit that he wanted to as well. 

“You won’t like it when I have to get up to take Marco to school,” Armin said. Jean grunted in response but Armin knew Jean agreed. 

“Fine,” he finally grumbled and Armin smiled before climbing off the bed and heading towards the door. 

“I hope you know I plan on taking you to dinner, even if you think it’s stupid,” Jean called after him. Armin stopped and grinned at him. 

“That’s fine, but I get to pick the restaurant,” he replied. “And you can be sure it won’t be yours. Your ego doesn’t need any boosting,” he quipped and, in a child-like display of ease and happiness, stuck his tongue out at Jean before closing the door and heading to his bedroom, feeling giddy with excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we're finally getting into the beginning of Armin and Jean's romantic relationship. I apologize again for the clunky last chapter, but like I said, I felt it was a necessary plot point. Hopefully you're all enjoying the story and will continue to do so as things progress! Also, I promise you'll see more of Marco in the next few chapters. Thanks for reading and for those of you on Spring Break next week, have a great one! :D


	11. Chapter 11

“Armin, you know I’m buying, right?” Jean asked, looking around Armin’s choice of restaurant a little skeptically. Armin laughed good-naturedly. 

“I know. But eating at anything other than a five star restaurant isn’t going to kill you. You eat my cooking, after all.” Jean frowned.

“There’s nothing wrong with your cooking. Besides, at least then I know where it’s coming from and what’s going in it,” he complained, wondering if perhaps Armin was punishing him for something he had unintentionally done. He wasn’t quite to the point of irritation, but he had been serious about taking Armin on a nice date, not to some hole in the wall diner. Armin shrugged. 

“I’ve been coming here for years and nothing bad has ever happened to me,” he said. At Jean’s next protest he sighed and looked at the brunette frankly. 

“Look, this is where my grandpa and I used to come a lot when I was in high school. And I figured, since you wanted to take me on a date and the point of a date is to get to know someone, that you wouldn’t mind coming here because it means something to me and I wanted to share that with you.” There was no venom or malice in his voice – aside from a touch of impatience - but Jean sobered up instantly, looking properly embarrassed. Armin sighed. 

“We can go somewhere else if you really-” 

“No, no. You’re right. I was being stupid. Come on, let’s get a table,” he said, taking Armin by the hand and leading him up to the waitress behind the podium. 

Armin couldn’t help but smile. Jean had recovered from that with about as much grace as Armin had any right to expect. Not to mention the little boost it gave his ego at hearing Jean admit to being wrong. Honestly, Armin was pleased in general with how things were starting off. He had been nervous after that first night, especially about Jean coming home the following evening. He hadn’t known what to expect or how Jean would behave around him. To his surprise, Jean had come in as usual and the only thing that indicated anything had changed between them was Jean asking him with a laugh whether he could get a welcome home kiss. Armin had rolled his eyes and shooed him away. To his relief, Jean hadn’t taken that to heart.

Armin knew that was something he’d have to address, the addition of physical displays of affection at home, but he was just going to have to wait and see how this evening went. There was no sense in upsetting Marco with the news before things were settled. Armin was surprised back to the present by the feeling of Jean’s hand tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Armin blinked at him and Jean paused with his arm still outstretched. Their eyes met and Armin understood Jean to be silently asking him if the gesture was okay. Armin nodded and turned his face to press his cheek against Jean’s hand, and then a slight bit further to press his lips to the palm. Jean grinned at him across the table and dropped his hand back down. 

“So, what do you think you’re going to tell me about yourself that I don’t already know?” Jean asked. Armin raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re the one who insisted on taking me on a date, despite having lived with me for almost six months now,” he countered. 

“True, but _you’re_ the one who insisted it was so we could get to know each other better.” Armin supposed he couldn’t argue with that.

“Fine. If you’re so confident, tell me what you know about me,” he said slyly. Jean smirked at him. 

“Your name is Armin Arlert. You’re twenty-five years old, you graduated from Maria University as a lit major. Your birthday is November third, and your greatest ambition is to write a book someday.” However, despite the smug look on Jean’s face, Armin frowned a little. That was it? That was all stuff that any employer would know, let alone a friend or potential lover. 

“That’s it?” Armin asked, trying not to sound disappointed. However, this seemed to be exactly what Jean was waiting for. 

“You also love the ocean, but you’ve never been to the coast. In fact, you’ve never been out of the state, which is unfortunate because you seem like the kind of person who would really enjoy travelling. You don’t like peanut butter and jelly, but you eat it with Marco anyways because it’s his favorite and you spoil him. Your best friends are Eren and Mikasa, but you don’t get to see them much because of all of your busy work schedules, but sometimes you think to yourself that maybe it’s because they just don’t want to hang out with you when they’re free. You like watching the Food Network, which started because you were afraid your cooking wasn’t good enough, but turned into you actually enjoying it, especially Chopped. Oh, and you’re allergic to cats, which is why you’re hoping if I let Marco get a pet like he’s been asking it’ll be a dog, and a small one at that.”

Armin stared at him, wondering how on earth Jean could possibly know all that. He was quite certain that most of the comments he’d made pertaining to those topics were in passing, or not at all. Jean’s smile was still smug but there was something else behind it too, something that Armin couldn’t quite decipher. It wasn’t quite hope, or nervousness, but it was something, something that wanted approval, but Armin didn’t know what to say. 

“You uh…pay a lot of attention to me, then,” he said, feeling lame. What the hell kind of answer was that? 

“Well…yeah. I thought you knew that,” Jean replied. And of course he did, didn’t he? Because how many times had he caught Jean just watching him, almost since day one? 

“Yeah…I guess you’re right. You’re certainly not very subtle, when I catch you staring at me all the time,” Armin said, reaching for his glass of water. 

“Well, you never caught me when I was staring at your ass,” Jean mused. 

Armin almost choked on his water and reached out to smack him on the arm. Jean just laughed. Armin was surprised and pleased by how well the date continued to go. They talked easily, and Armin didn’t know if it was just because Jean had a lot of experience on dates, but Jean seemed to have a talent for making Armin feel like he was the only one in the room, and without it feeling fake or forced or awkward. 

It wasn’t as if he ignored the waitstaff or showered Armin with compliments, but it was something about the way he spoke, and listened , the way he would reach out and stroke the back of Armin’s hand as they spoke. It had all the usual intensity that Jean brought to everything, softened just a little, just enough to make Armin feel as though Jean had never wanted anything as much as he had wanted to sit in that little diner with Armin and listen to the blond talk about his grandfather and his time in college and his most embarrassing moments from high school. 

Which wasn’t to say that Jean didn’t talk at all; on the contrary, Armin learned more about him in that short time frame than he had in almost the entire time he had been living there. Sure, he knew a lot about Jean’s personality, and what he liked and didn’t like, but he didn’t know much about Jean’s childhood – he had been an only child whose parents pushed him to work hard – or anything much about the time he had spent with Marco’s mother – Jean admitted that he might have even loved her, but he just couldn’t be what she wanted or deserved, and honestly he just hadn’t been ready for that sort of commitment – or his family – his father had passed but his mother lived on the west coast, so they didn’t see each other very often . 

It was probably the best date Armin had been on and when they left he was smiling from ear to ear, and if it were possible, his grin might have widened when he realized that he and Jean didn’t have to part for the night or hesitate outside each other’s doors wondering whether it was okay to ask the other to come in. Instead they would go home together, and what happened from there well…that was up to them. 

It did make Armin a little apprehensive though. Sure, they had arranged for Marco to spend the night at a friend’s house so they’d have the apartment to themselves but how would Jean feel if Armin made a move on him? After all…hadn’t they put off sleeping together? Or was that the purpose of this date? Jean wouldn’t just take him on a date with the hope of sleeping with him, would he? 

Once again Armin caught himself making stupid assumptions about Jean. And what difference did it make anyways? They both wanted each other, after all. While Armin was still having an internal debate, Jean seemed to have made up his mind already. They were barely in the door when Jean hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Armin’s pants and pulled him close. 

“I hope you enjoyed our quiet dinner, because I plan on making the rest of the night very loud,” he murmured, giving Armin’s ass a firm squeeze to emphasize his point. 

Armin responded by fisting his hands in Jeans shirt and pulling the taller man down for a kiss. Both of Jean’s hands moved to his rear, squeezing and kneading and finally hefting Armin off the ground so the blond could wrap his legs around his waist. 

“This is okay right?” Armin murmured against Jean’s lips, pulling away just enough to ask it. Jean chuckled and began maneuvering down the hallway to his bedroom. 

“Wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t,” he replied before kissing Armin again. 

Armin was too busy marveling at Jean’s ability to walk, carry him and kiss him senseless at the same time. Had he been missing Jean going to the gym on a regular basis or something? Armin was jolted from his thoughts by Jean tossing him onto the bed and immediately crawling after him. Armin reached up and tugged insistently at the fabric on his shoulders after Jean had settled himself comfortably to straddle Armin’s hips. 

Jean pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it across the room and finally, finally, Armin could look and touch too. Jean indulged him for a moment before divesting Armin of his shirt as well and shifting to start on the blond’s pants. They were gone in seconds, leaving Armin sprawled out on his back for Jean to run his eyes over. 

“God damn,” he murmured and Armin felt whatever blood that wasn’t currently elsewhere seep into his face. 

“Shut-up,” he replied. Jean grinned at him rather wolfishly. 

“Why? I’m not allowed to like what I see?” he teased, leaning down to run his tongue along the line of Armin’s hip, causing him to squirm. 

Jean trailed his tongue up Armin’s stomach, dipping into his belly button and continuing up to give a gentle pinch to his left nipple with his teeth, grinning when Armin gave a pleased gasp. When Jean moved up to kiss Armin’s lips he shook his head. 

“Nope. Not until your pants are gone,” he said. 

Jean laughed and obliged him, shucking out of his jeans and then giving Armin a quick peck on the lips before repositioning himself between his pale legs. Armin watched , his mouth dry, as Jean bent his head and the tip of his tongue darted out to swipe the bead of pre-cum from the head of his achingly hard cock. In agonizingly slow movements, Jean continued to drag his tongue over Armin’s length before, in one swift movement he took almost the entirety of it into his mouth. 

“Fuck!” Armin gasped, his hands curling into fists on the sheets. But Jean was relentless, bobbing his head up and down with torturously pleasant suction and a pace that was almost enough to drive Armin crazy. It wasn’t until Armin’s fingers threaded in his hair, giving persistent tugs that Jean pulled away and leaned up to kiss him. 

“You look a little flustered,” Jean teased, pulling Armin so they could both lay on their sides. Armin couldn’t even muster a witty response, and simply look up at Jean with kiss swollen lips and half-lidded eyes. 

“Christ, it’s so sexy when you look at me like that,” Jean growled, reaching down to palm Armin’s spit slicked cock against his own. Armin groaned and buried his face in the crook of Jean’s neck where the brunette could feel his erratic breathing. 

“Please…god Jean…please,” he gasped, bucking his hips into Jean’s fist. 

“Please what?” Jean asked and Armin practically whimpered. 

“You’ve got to tell me what you want, Armin,” Jean replied, breathless himself, but unwilling to relent. 

“I want you to fuck me, please,” Armin panted. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you in the restaurant. I thought about it sometimes, when I jacked off, thought about you taking me from behind, fucking me into the mattress, how good it would feel to have your cock buried in my ass, please, please.” 

He was rambling now, insensate with need and willing to say anything to get what he wanted. And Jean was totally down for that. He rolled Armin onto his front, hoisting his hips up and nudging him to tuck his knees so that Armin was presenting himself. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Jean said and he saw the shiver that ran through Armin’s body at his words. 

“Jean, please,” Armin whispered again. 

Behind him he heard Jean chuckle and then heard him reach into the nightstand. Under normal circumstances he might’ve teased Jean about being a little too ready but he was too tense, too desperate for Jean’s touch, for what was coming. When he felt Jean’s first lube-slicked finger pressing against his hole he pushed back, knowing his own limits and trying to hurry thing along. 

“You’re not going to hurt me,” he assured, noticing that for the first time, Jean seemed a little hesitant. 

Armin’s words seemed to reassure him and before the blond knew it, Jean had three fingers in him, shifting in and out as he groaned. But it wasn’t enough. He needed Jean’s cock inside him, and he wanted it now. 

“I’m good,” he finally managed between gasps as Jean’s middle finger brushed against his prostate. 

Jean pulled his fingers out and Armin heard the rip of foil as Jean opened the condom and then a few seconds later he could feel the press of Jean’s head at his entrance. Armin expected Jean to be a little hesitant, but instead he pressed in all at once, pushing a cry from Armin’s lips as he grasped at the sheets. Jean didn’t give him much time to recover before pulling back out and thrusting in once more. He set an unyielding pace, his thick cock moving in and out of Armin’s ass in hard, measured thrusts. The feeling of it didn’t even compare to how Armin had imagined it. 

The words that tumbled from his lips were unintelligible, mingled with cries and gasps as Jean struck his prostate over and over, making him see stars. Behind him he could hear Jean grunting with effort and talking dirty to him, telling him how good he was, how tight his ass was, and telling him what else he couldn’t wait to do with him. 

At the rate they were going, Armin was sure he would cum from Jean being inside of him alone. But when he heard Jean stutter, “Fuck Armin, I’m close,” he reached between his legs, grabbing his own cock and tugging it almost desperately. The added sensation tipped him over the edge and he came, crying Jean’s name, his muscles squeezing and clenching around Jean’s length. This, in turn, caused Jean’s orgasm to barrel through him and as Armin lay there trying to catch his breath he could feel Jean twitching inside of him as he came.

With a contented sigh, Jean bent over, pressing his chest to Armin’s back and laying a kiss between his shoulder blades. Fortunately for Armin he didn’t stay there for very long, because honestly Armin’s entire body felt something like jelly and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to support both their weights. 

Jean pulled out slowly and then tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash before coming and plopping onto the bed beside Armin, helping him stretch out again and roll onto his back. Jean propped himself up on his back and reached out to brush Armin’s hair out of his face with a smile that was somehow equal parts satisfied and sheepish. 

“Hope you weren’t looking for slow, romantic lovemaking or anything. I was too impatient,” he said. Armin laughed. 

“No. No, that was good. That was better than good. I mean…Hell. That was…yeah,” he said articulately. Jean snorted. 

“Damn you’re cute,” he said. Armin smacked him playfully and stifled a yawn.

“What time is it?” he asked. Jean looked over at the clock on the nightstand. 

“About ten thirty,” he said. 

“Early enough to have round two later, then?” 

Jean positively cackled and grabbed a pillow to hit Armin with. Armin had a feeling this was going to be the beginning of something that was either going to be very pleasant, or go very, very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I would like to apologize for last weekend and missing my update. Shuto Con was this weekend in Lansing (hello to any of you that I may have seen!) and it wrapped up today, but I spent most of last weekend finishing my Armin cosplay so....I kind of forgot to do any writing. As an apology this chapter is a little bit longer and a bit ah... meatier than usual, if you catch my drift haha. Hopefully it was worth the wait and I will do my best not to let that sort of thing happen in the future. As always, thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

Despite Armin’s teasing, they didn’t end up going for round two that night. Instead they ended up out on the sofa, watching movies and making out lazily. Eventually they fell asleep that way, sprawled across the couch with Armin tucked into Jean’s arms and didn’t wake up again until the next morning. Jean woke first, so when Armin opened his eyes he found himself alone. The TV was flipped to the news channel and Jean’s laptop was on the coffee table though, so he wasn’t worried about Jean having actually gone anywhere. 

As he sat up and stretched he made a mental note not to spend any more nights sleeping on the couch if he could help it. It was a comfortable couch, sure, but nothing could beat the memory foam mattress in his bedroom. It seemed as though his time living in the penthouse had left him quite spoiled. When Jean returned he was carrying two mugs of coffee and Armin smiled up at him gratefully as one of them was offered to him. 

“Good morning,” Jean said, leaning over to give Armin a peck on the cheek. Armin smiled, pleased with how natural the gesture felt. 

“Morning,” he replied, relieved to find that his voice wasn’t hoarse at all. 

As they sipped their coffee Jean pulled out his laptop and began checking his emails and various other things. Armin gave it a sidelong glance, wondering if perhaps Jean would let him borrow it for a short while to start looking for Birthday gifts for Marco. It was nearing June, after all. Before he could say anything though there was a knock at the door. Armin went to answer it, figuring it was Marco being dropped off. 

“Hi Armin!” the boy said cheerfully, giving him a hug before turning to say goodbye to his friend while Armin thanked the girl’s mother. 

“Did you have a good time?” he asked, once the other two had left. Marco nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded square of paper. 

“I made you something!” he proclaimed, handing it to his caregiver.

Armin took it with an amused smile and carefully unfolded it. It was a drawing of the three of them – Armin was sure it was them, despite the people being stick figures, because Marco’s had freckles, his had shoulder length blond hair and Jean’s towered over both of them – holding hands and standing at the beach. 

“Do you like it?” 

Armin smiled at him and brushed some hair behind his ear. 

“I love it, thank you so much. I’m going to put it right up on the fridge, okay?” Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say, somehow, because Marco was frowning at him now. 

“Did you hurt yourself Armin?” he asked curiously. Armin’s forehead creased.

“What makes you ask that?” Marco pointed a finger at Armin’s neck. 

“There’s a bunch of weird red spots on your neck,” he said. Armin paused, considered for a moment and then rubbed a hand over his face. 

“Oh…I am going to _kill_ that man,” he muttered. Marco cocked his head. 

“Did Jean do something? Oh yeah! I made him something too ! Wanna see?” 

“Sure Marco,” Armin said, glad for the change of subject. At least now he wouldn’t have to evade any awkward questions. Marco pulled out another paper and unfolded it for Armin to see. It was similar to the previous one except, for some reason, Marco was holding a dog’s leash in this one, and they were in space. 

“I didn’t know somewhere that Jean really wanted to go, so I drew us all in space!” he explained excitedly. 

“Oh…that’s…very cool. But why is there a dog in this one?” Armin couldn’t help but ask. 

“Because I want one. I’m trying to make Jean want one too, so I drew one in our family. Mrs. Baker said it’s called…sub…sib…hmmm….” 

“Subliminal messaging?” Armin supplied, highly amused. Marco’s face lit up.

“Yeah! That one!” Oh he could not wait to see how Jean was going to react to this. 

So, he followed Marco into the living room and watched with a smile as they greeted one another. There was hardly any of the shy, awkwardness between them that there once had been. It was unfortunate that Marco still stubbornly refused to call him dad though. Still…Armin wondered if perhaps they were just past that. It worried him to think that Marco had now spent so long calling Jean by name that he wouldn’t ever be able to get in the habit of calling Jean by a title he had been working so hard to earn. And at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel extraordinarily proud of himself. All his hard work was paying off, and it was nice to finally see them acting like a family. A family that he was a part of. Now there was a strange thought. 

He looked down to see Marco tugging at his sleeve. 

“Sorry kiddo, I got lost in thought. What’s up?” Marco was grinning ear to ear. 

“It worked! The siblingimal messages worked!” Armin did his best not to snort with laughter. Kids were just so damned cute when they mispronounced words. Instead he looked at Jean with an eyebrow raised. 

“A dog?” he asked. Jean shrugged. 

“A small one.” Armin sighed. Somehow he had the feeling that adding a dog to the mix was going to be much more chaotic than any of them anticipated. 

That night, after Armin had gotten Marco fed and bathed and tucked in, he dragged Jean into the living room for a talk. The day had been…stressful, to say the least. Since they had agreed, for the time being at least, not to tell Marco it meant they had to be careful about both the type and amount of affection they showed. Given that they were both grown men and not hormone-driven teenagers, it should’ve been easy.

But no.

Jean insisted on stealing kisses and caresses whenever Marco wasn’t looking or was out of the room which, though he enjoyed, left Armin a mess of nerves. On top of that, he was having a hard time censoring himself. He discovered the hard way how easy it had suddenly become to turn their witty banter in something sexual. Marco might have only been a kid, but he was perceptive enough to know that something had changed and after downplaying and waving away a fair share of questions, Armin reached the conclusion that he and Jean would just have to come clean. Armin patted the spot on the couch next to him and Jean heaved a sigh as he plopped down. 

“Okay…what did I do wrong?” he asked. Armin frowned. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I mean you’ve got that look on your face like you get when one of us is in trouble,” Jean clarified.

Armin opened his mouth to argue that he did _not_ have a look that was specific to that situation but stopped when he realized that was probably an argument he wouldn’t win. 

“But seriously, what’s up?” Jean asked, leaning back and crossing his ankles on the coffee table. Armin bit his lip. 

“It’s just…I don’t know that hiding this from Marco is such a good idea, even if we’re still in the trial period.” To his surprise Jean nodded. 

“I was thinking that too. And not just because I’m incapable of behaving myself, according to you,” he teased. Armin rolled his eyes. 

“How should we tell him?” 

“Give him the puppy first. He’ll be too excited to care.” 

“Jean! I’m serious here!” Armin said, trying and failing not to smile. 

“I know, I know. I don’t know. You could tell him? He still likes you better,” Jean said. And Armin couldn’t pretend that didn’t sting a little bit, even though he was certain Jean hadn’t meant it to. But that was a can of worms that didn’t need opening right now. 

“I think we should tell him together,” he said, fighting to keep his voice as neutral as possible. Jean turned to look at him and his eyes narrowed a little, but he didn’t say anything. After a moment, he shrugged. 

“Yeah…you’re probably right. Just out of curiosity, why are we so worried about this again?” Jean asked. “I mean, the kid loves you. It’s not like that’s going to change because we’re dating.” 

“You don’t know that. I mean, it’s one thing for me to be the hired help but another for me to act as a parental unit.” 

“And you’ve been doing what, since you got here, exactly?” 

“It’s not the same!” Jean was quiet for a moment.

“Armin…what are you really afraid of?” Jean finally asked. Armin exhaled slowly. 

“I don’t know,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie. 

For some reason, even though he hadn’t been particularly worried about it before, telling Marco suddenly seemed like a huge step. It was like…the icing on the cake. No, that was a bad analogy. It was like…well Armin didn’t really know what it was like, except that it seemed like that was what would make this real and not just some fantasy out of a romance novel. And that scared him a little, because if it was something real, that meant it was something breakable. And at the same time he _wanted_ Marco to know, he _wanted_ to be part of this family, not just someone who worked there and collected a paycheck. Because that wasn’t what he was, and it never had been, now that he thought about it. Jean’s hand was on his cheek, his thumb stroking over his cheekbone in a comforting gesture. Armin was grateful for it. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what it is,” he said quietly. Jean shrugged. 

“Everyone has stuff like that. It is what it is. Just don’t change your mind on me because you’re afraid to tell him,” he said, giving a small – and if Armin didn’t know any better, he’d say nervous – smile. Immediately the blond shook his head. 

“No, of course not. We’ll tell him together. Maybe we can go out for dinner somewhere he likes first,” Armin said. Jean grinned. 

“Whatever you say Armin. I’m telling you, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Jean promised.

Despite his fears, Armin was somehow inclined to believe him. Jean seemed to have that effect on people. And as it turned it, he was right anyways. True to Jean’s word, they went out to dinner the next night at Marco’s favorite restaurant – an all you can eat pizza buffet – and made sure he was well fed before delivering the news. After two failed attempts on Armin’s part to open his mouth and have words come out Jean intervened. 

“Marco, Armin and I have something very important to tell you,” Jean started. Instantly a look of worry appeared in Marco’s eyes and Armin’s mouth went dry. This was it. They were going to tell him and for some reason he was going to throw a fit and Jean would have no choice but to let Armin go and he was being stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

“We’re not getting a puppy?” Marco asked, his voice tremulous. 

“What? No, of course we’re getting a puppy. I told you we would,” Jean said, chuckling. Marco perked back up instantly and Armin could’ve burst out laughing with relief. 

“Then what is it?” Marco asked. 

“Well, Armin and I are going to start dating, do you know what that means?” Marco’s entire face lit up. 

“It means that you love each other, right?” he asked ecstatically. Armin and Jean shared a glance and hidden smiles. 

“Well um…no, not exactly. It means that we both like each other a lot though. But since we’re a family, we wanted to talk about it with you,” Armin said, gaining confidence now that it was clear that Marco was open to the idea. He hoped Jean wouldn’t mind his phrasing. Technically they were family, he was an outsider. 

“Does that mean you’re going to do gross kissy stuff?” Marco asked, making a face. 

“All the time,” Jean said with a wicked grin and began puckering his lips up and making noises at Armin who shoved him away playfully while Marco made noises of disgust. 

“We just wanted to make sure it was okay with you Marco,” Armin said again. Marco considered this for a few seconds. 

“Okay, but only on one condition!” he said. Armin and Jean looked at each other. 

“And what’s that?” 

“You guys aren’t allowed to fight!” he said resolutely. Armin gave him a patient smile. 

“Well…we can’t promise that, but we’ll do our best okay?” Marco tapped his chin and finally nodded. Armin breathed a sigh of relief as the boy got up to refill his soda cup.

“See? Just like I told you; nothing to worry about,” Jean said. 

“Well don’t let it go to your head,” Armin grumbled. Jean just laughed. 

“Do I ever?” 

The next day passed in much the same fashion as usual; Armin got Marco up and dropped him off at school, drove out to drop off the lunch Marco had left in the refrigerator and did his usual chores. He couldn’t help but think about what Jean had said, about the fact that at the end of the day, Armin was still technically his employee. He wondered if there was some sort of anti-fraternizing clause in his contract. Not that it really mattered…Jean was the boss after all and Armin had no doubt he’d rewrite the entire contract if he had to. 

As it was…it did leave Armin in a rather sticky situation. If he was going to be part of the family, then it didn’t seem right for him to continue being paid. But at the same time, if he quit over this it would just make him a freeloader, since he wouldn’t very well be able to go get a job and keep up with his responsibilities at the apartment at the same time. And hiring someone new was already out of the question; Jean had been clear about that. So…for the time being Armin would just have to swallow his pride and make it work. 

He was resigned to the idea when he went to pick Marco up from school. As usual, Marco told him all about what he had learned that day and presented Armin with a permission slip for the upcoming field trip. Armin set it aside for Jean to sign later, though he promised Marco that he’d go as a chaperone. When they got home, they followed their usual routine; Marco got a snack and some relax time and then had to get started on his homework. He was sitting at the table finishing it up while Armin prepped for dinner when Jean walked in. 

There was a fraction of silence as Jean pecked Armin on the cheek and then Marco said, “Hi dad!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And whomp there it is; Jean and Armin spill the beans and Marco finally uses the 'D' word. But what does this mean for our little family now?
> 
> As I'm sure you could tell by the earliness of this update, I was prepared for this week. I actually got the chapter done last Thursday, which has also given me time to start on chapter 13, so I'm in good shape for the next few updates I think. I'm still not sure of the length overall but I'd be willing to say that we're probably around the halfway point in the plot line at least. How much writing it will take me to get the rest of it in, I'm not sure so hopefully you all stick around for it! As always thanks for reading!!


	13. Chapter 13

It was like time had frozen. Jean was halfway through untying one of his shoes and Armin was standing there, his hand frozen mid stir in the bowl of stir-fry sauce in his hands. Someone needed to say something. They couldn’t make a huge deal of this. It might spook Marco or make him think he had done something wrong. He sent a pleading glance to Jean who’s eyes had snapped to his. 

Jean opened his mouth, closed it again and then finally said, “Hey Marco. How was school today?” 

The entire scene played out over a few seconds but it had felt like an eternity and Armin breathed a silent sigh of relief when Marco answered with no hesitation. 

He continued cooking, watching from the corner of his eye as Jean walked over to Marco to look at his school work and talk to him a bit. The taller man stood behind him and Armin watched with a sharp tugging feeling in his chest as Jean stood there, nodding along as Marco spoke. He watched as Jean raised his hand, hesitated with it inches from Marco’s dark hair and then reached out to just place his hand on the boy’s head, stroking his hair and looking down at him with a look of such awe and affection that it almost broke Armin’s heart. In that look and that simple gesture, Armin saw for the first time just how much Jean cared about Marco. Perhaps it had not always been so, but there it was, written on is face clear as day and Armin realized that if he wasn’t already in love with Jean he was very much in danger of becoming so. 

The blond took a deep breath and had to turn away. Still, despite the happiness of the moment, something nagged at him. Why had Marco chosen that moment? Armin wanted to believe it was just coincidence, but something told him that wasn’t the case, no matter how happy he wanted for Jean. So when Jean came in while Armin was washing the dishes after dinner, it was all Armin could do to put a smile on his face. 

“Did you hear him Armin?” Jean asked, still in disbelief. 

“He called me dad…I mean, I know you’ve been trying to get him to say it but…I didn’t think I’d be this happy about it. I mean just…wow,” Jean said, and it was one of the only times Armin had seen him at such a loss for words. 

“I know Jean, it’s great! I’m really happy for you.” Armin hoped it didn’t sound as false to Jean as it had sounded to him. Jean didn’t seem to notice though, and instead turned Armin around to kiss him. He didn’t say thank you, but Armin could see it in his face, and for some reason it made him feel that much worse. 

Armin was the one who tucked Marco in that night while Jean went to go shower. With a sigh, Armin sat down on the side of the bed. 

“So, today was a big day, huh?” 

He had thought his plan out before coming into the bedroom. Marco was a smart boy, Armin knew that. So he’d ask an apparently innocuous question. Marco’s reaction would determine how far Armin pushed it. To his disappointment, Marco seemed to know exactly what he was talking about. 

“Cuz I called Jean dad?” he asked. 

“Yeah. I’m really proud of you. He’s worked really hard to show you that he’s ready you know,” Armin said, careful to keep his voice light. Marco’s face turned guilty and Armin felt his heart sink. 

“I know,” he mumbled and fidgeted with his blanket in a way that Armin recognized. Next would be the stuffed dog. 

There was quiet for a long moment and then Armin asked, as gently as he could, “Marco, is there something you want to tell me?” The longer the silence stretched out, the more Armin dreaded the answer.

“Well…you and Jean like each other right? And Jean’s my dad…so…that kinda makes you my dad too, like Jackie in my class; she has two moms. She says she only popped out of one of them, but since her mom got married to her other mom, she gets to call them both mom! So if I call Jean dad then…when you guys get married I can…call you dad too…right?” 

Armin swallowed having no idea what to say. His heart broke for Jean. He knew that Marco hadn’t done this with any intention of causing Jean pain but…if the other man found out, Armin hated to think what it would do to him. 

“Are you mad at me now?” Marco asked, voice soft and almost frightened. Armin shook his head. 

“No Marco, of course not. I-” From somewhere else in the apartment there was a crashing noise. Armin jumped and Marco stared towards the door with wide eyes. There was another bang, and the sound of breaking glass. Armin was on his feet in seconds. 

“What is that?” Marco whispered.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. Jean probably dropped something. I’ll be back soon okay,” Armin assured him, sounding much more at ease than he felt. 

The moment he had closed the door behind him and was out of Marco’s sight he rushed to the kitchen. One of the stools was knocked over and there were broken shards of glass on the floor. Jean stood in front of the fridge, staring hard at the hand-drawn pictures there. 

“Jean?” Armin asked hesitantly. He was dressed only in his underwear and his hair was dry. 

“You didn’t get in the shower, did you?” Armin surmised. 

“I was coming to ask if you wanted to join me.” 

Armin took a deep breath.

“You heard.” 

“Of course I heard!” Jean snarled. There was venom in every word and Armin didn’t know what to say. Somehow it struck him as ironic; they had barely been dating an entire day and already they were fighting, and over something Armin had no control over. 

“I’m s-” 

“Don’t! Don’t…fucking apologize.” Armin instantly shut his mouth, unable to help but feel frightened by the sudden burst of anger. It was the first time he’d ever seen anything like this from Jean. The silence stretched out between them. 

“I was so stupid, too. I just thought, finally, I did it right, you know? I mean. I knew he liked you better. And it didn’t bother me, right? Because I thought I was getting somewhere. I thought, maybe you’d be first, because you didn’t scare him shitless when you first met him, but I could fit somewhere too. I could be a dad. I could do all that shit for him, and for you. And I’m just pissed, because now I just look like a moron, and I don’t have anyone to be mad at, so I’m just mad. I can’t be mad at you; it’s not your fault you’re so fucking good with him and patient and understanding. I can’t blame him for wanting you to be his dad. And I can’t be pissed at him because he’s just a kid. It’s not like he knew what it meant to hear him say that. And just…I’m a fucking mess. And I need to clean up that glass before one of you steps one it,” he muttered, resigned. 

Armin’s mind was racing, thinking of something to say, anything, to make it better. But it couldn’t come from him. What good would it do to tell Jean that Marco really did think of him as a dad, if it wasn’t coming from Marco himself? And how could Armin make Marco understand how unfair it had been of him, especially when he hadn’t done it out of malice in the first place? Armin wanted to comfort Jean somehow but he didn’t know what to say, so he stood quietly as Jean brushed past him to go get the broom and clean up the mess he had made. 

“I’ll do that,” Armin offered, but the look Jean shot him silenced him almost immediately. 

“I guess…I’m going to bed then,” he muttered instead. 

Jean didn’t say anything so after a moment Armin just padded off down the hall, feeling worse than he had in a long time and unable to wrap his head around how things had gone so wrong so quickly. He stopped by Marco’s room to assure the boy that everything was okay – even if this was a lie – but Marco appeared to be asleep already. But judging by the way he was clutching his stuffed dog, Armin had a feeling he was faking it. Even so, Armin couldn’t bring himself to disturb him, so he just made sure the nightlight was on and closed the door, leaving the boy to sleep. He turned to find Jean standing in the hallway, arms crossed over his bare chest. 

“Thought you were going to bed,” he said. 

“I wanted to make sure Marco was asleep first,” Armin replied, uncertain how to sound, or how to feel. 

Was he justified in feeling hurt for having to bear the brunt of Jean’s – admittedly warranted – anger? Or would it be better for him to just grin and bear it and comfort Jean however he could? Did this mean that Jean might want to end things between them already? 

As if Jean could read his mind, he asked, “Well?” 

Armin frowned and Jean nodded towards his bedroom.

“Bed’s that way,” he said.

“Oh. I thought…” 

“Thought what?” Armin shrugged, shifting on his feet. 

“Well…we hadn’t really talked about sharing a bedroom…and I figured you wouldn’t want to…I figured I should sleep in my room tonight,” he said. Armin watched Jean’s hand flex on his bicep and knew he had said the wrong thing. 

“Fine. Goodnight then,” Jean said. 

His words were clipped, forced, and Armin knew he had hurt him. Again. He had been so sure that Jean was angry at him – despite having admitted it was irrational – and would want to deal with that alone that he hadn’t considered Jean would want him there beside him. And didn’t that just baffle him because even though they had only been together for a day, they had already reached that point, like everything up to then was the foundation of their relationship and giving it a name was just a formality at this point. 

Was it too late to go after him? Would it make things worse? Or would it be better for him to just go down the hallway to his own bed, where he had spent almost every night before? Was that was he wanted? Not for the first time, Armin didn’t know what he wanted. But he did know what he _didn’t_ want. He didn’t want to argue with Jean. He didn’t want to have to explain to Marco why what he had done wasn’t okay. But mostly he didn’t want to go to his bed and fall asleep by himself and leave Jean alone and angry.

So, even though he was afraid of making things worse, and he was afraid of Jean telling him to go away, Armin took a deep breath and took the few steps down the hallway to Jean’s bedroom. He didn’t knock, just pushed the door open silently, quietly slipped out of his clothes and down to his underwear and then, swallowing down the last of his fear, lifted the covers and slid into bed beside Jean. 

There was a beat of silence and then, quietly, “Thought you were sleeping by yourself.” 

“I changed my mind.” 

Jean didn’t say anything, but the way he reached behind him and pulled Armin’s arm around him was proof enough of how he felt about Armin’s choice. Feeling a bit more confident now, Armin pressed a kiss to the back of Jean’s neck and scooted closer to him so their bodies were pressed together. Slowly he felt the tension bleed from Jean’s shoulders and felt the other man relax against him. 

For a moment, Armin felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He had been in relationships before, sure. This wasn’t his first rodeo. But somehow, in that moment, this one felt different than all the others. Armin was used to being the small one, and not just because of his physique. He was always the one who needed looking after, apparently. It didn’t matter how much a partner respected or admired him, it always seemed like they felt Armin was the one in need of comforting, who had to occasionally be treated like some frail thing who was so uncertain of himself that he needed near constant reassurance and –on a more trivial note – was always the small spoon.

Now, for perhaps the first time in as long as he could remember, Armin was the one in a position to give comfort. It didn’t matter that Jean was half a foot taller than him, that Jean – as he had proved – was capable of lifting Armin in his arms and carrying to him bed. Tonight Jean was the one who needed be held, and he had granted Armin the honor of being the one to do it. 

Armin gave Jean’s chest a gentle squeeze. The fact that they were there in the same bed wouldn’t fix everything. Jean would still be upset in the morning – not that Armin could blame him – and even though they weren’t really fighting, things wouldn’t be quite right. But for just that brief bit of time, it helped. And Armin couldn’t ignore the significance of that; this might be their first fight, but at the end of the night they were together, not sulking alone at opposite ends of the apartment. It terrified him as much as it comforted him. Just what had he gotten himself into, saying yes to this man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No joke, you guys made it _very_ difficult to go through with posting this chapter, after all the excited comments I got last week. Buuuut...I'm not going to apologize. Hopefully this doesn't turn any of you off of reading haha. Thanks for all your support and for checking back in!


	14. Chapter 14

Armin woke alone again, but this time there was no evidence that Jean was still there. Armin sighed and hoped that this wasn’t going to become a regular occurrence. He wasn’t even sure where Jean could’ve gone…it was Saturday. Jean didn’t have work this morning. He glanced at the clock and swore. He had slept in later than he meant to; it was almost nine. Marco would surely be up already, and Armin hated to think what the two of them being alone right now would mean. He rushed down the hall to get dressed in clean clothes – or at least clean pajamas – and then hurried into the main room. Marco was in front of the TV, watching cartoons like usual with his stuffed dog. Unlike the last few weeks though, Jean was nowhere to be found. 

Armin heard a gentle clinking noise and went into the kitchen where he found Jean at the kitchen table with his laptop and a cup of coffee. He didn’t look up when Armin came in, so the blond cleared his throat. Jean still didn’t look up at him, but at least he acknowledged him with a “Morning.” Armin knew he wasn’t imagining the pink tinge in the tips of Jean’s ears, but wondered if it was there because he was embarrassed about having to face Armin after using him as a human teddy bear, or the fact that he had been caught hiding from a six year old. 

Armin greeted him in return but didn’t say anything else before going to make his own cup of coffee and then taking a seat beside the other man. Before Armin could even open his mouth though, Jean interrupted him. 

“I’m working on something, and I really don’t want to talk about it right now,” he said. Though his tone was both firm and casual, Armin could tell there was still pain beneath his words. But he wasn’t going to push it.

“Okay,” was all he said, standing up and going to the living room, feeling as if he might have better luck there. Marco patted the spot beside him without looking away from the TV and Armin couldn’t help but smile as he took a seat next to him on the floor. 

“He…my dad is mad at me,” he whispered after a moment. 

Armin had to admit that he was surprised by the use of one particular noun, but then again, he knew how stubborn Marco could be. It seemed that he planned on being no less stubborn about calling Jean dad despite the negative response as he had been about not using the word. Armin sighed, wishing he could reach into the backseat and put an arm around him. 

“He’s not mad Marco,” the blond promised. 

“He seems mad…” 

“Sometimes people seem angry when they’re hurt, because they don’t know how else to show it,” Armin explained. 

“Did I hurt him?” Marco asked and Armin wished he could just run away from this whole conversation, but he knew he couldn’t. When Armin hesitated to respond Marco spoke again. “I didn’t mean to…I thought you wanted me to call him dad.” 

And Armin realized just how difficult this was going to be, because Marco had finally done the thing that they had been asking him to do for weeks and everything had gone to hell because of it. How could Armin explain that it wasn’t the word itself, but the intent behind it – or lack thereof – that had hurt Jean? 

“I did Marco, I do.” 

“Then why is he angry?” Marco asked, and there was an edge in his voice that suggested he might be about to cry and Armin didn’t know if he could handle that, especially this early in the morning. Armin bit his lip, trying to think of a way to explain it without making too many assumptions as to how Jean really felt. 

“Well…he’s _hurt_ because when you and I were talking last night, your dad heard you tell me why you started calling him that,” Armin said.

Marco pulled away to look up at him, apparently confused, so Armin tried again. 

“Okay, let’s start over. When you first got here, you were afraid of him, right?” Marco hesitated, looked at Armin suspiciously and then nodded jerkily. 

“But now you’re not, right?” 

Marco shook his head almost instantly.

“And that’s because he’s been spending time with you, right? And acting like dads should act?” 

Again Marco nodded.

“Well, why do you think he did all that?”

Marco chewed on his lip while he thought. 

“Because…he’s ready to be a dad now?” 

Armin nodded.

“So…when you told me last night that the only reason you were going to call him dad from now on was so that you could call me dad someday too, how do you think that made him feel?” 

“…Really bad,” Marco said after a minute, finally understanding. “But it’s not true! That’s not the _only_ reason!” he protested. Armin leaned back on his palms to listen. “Jean’s not like you, but he’s good! And…can’t you fix it Armin?” he pleaded. 

Armin shook his head. 

“I’m sorry Marco, but it’s not quite that simple,” he said. 

“What if I apologize? Will that fix it?” 

And once again Armin found himself caught between a rock and a hard place, because no, a simple apology probably wouldn’t fix it, but wasn’t that what they always taught kids? That if you apologized for messing up or hurting someone’s feelings it was supposed to make it better? Not for the first time it occurred to Armin what a fucked up world they lived in. 

Just then Jean strode into the living room, stopping just long enough to tell Armin that something important had come up and he had to go out. There was something about his demeanor that set Armin on edge, but Jean assured him he’d talk to him about it later, so there was nothing he could do. Marco stared after him for a long minute.

“Will his feelings be hurt forever?” Marco finally asked, once Jean was safely out of the apartment. Armin couldn’t help but laugh, despite the seriousness of the conversation. 

“No, of course not. I think maybe now that he’s shown you he’s ready to be your dad, you should try showing him you’re ready to be his little boy, what do you think?” Armin suggested. Marco made an expression that Armin could only describe as pursing his lips and swishing them back and forth before finally nodding. 

“How do I do that?” he asked.

“I’m going to let you figure that one out, okay?” Armin asked, getting to his feet. Marco peered up at him but to Armin’s surprise simply nodded, his face determined. 

When Jean arrived home several hours later – it was nearing dinner time, in fact – Marco was waiting for him. He had spent the afternoon asking Armin’s thoughts on various ideas from doing all the chores – which Armin had to gently remind him had all been taken care of during the week – to making him dinner – an idea Armin wasn’t too thrilled with, given that he cooked every other night of the week and would likely be the one doing all the work. Eventually the boy decided on something simple and he made sure to have it all ready when his father got home. 

He was standing a few feet in front of the door, as if prepared for a standoff. In his hands was a large piece of paper, the blank side facing away from it. There were no creases in it or tears or smudgy hand-prints. It was pristine except for the drawing on the other side. Armin could tell how nervous he was, but the child didn’t show it. 

Jean walked in carrying paper bags that – if Armin’s nose smelled correctly – carried Chinese food for the night’s dinner. When he saw Marco in front of him he paused, frowning and looked to Armin for help. Armin rushed forward, but only to relieve him of the bags, forcing him to stay where he was. Armin set the bags on the counter but didn’t turn back around, doing his best not to intrude. 

“What’s going on?” Jean finally asked. But this was Marco’s show, so Armin stayed quiet, hoping the kid wouldn’t lose his nerve. Marco held the picture out to Jean. 

“I drew this for you. It’s just you and me, Armin isn’t in it. I like Armin a lot, but…I want you to be my dad too,” he said. 

Armin turned to glance at Jean who was holding the paper in his hands and staring at it. There was absolute silence. 

“Is…that okay?” Marco asked quietly, his voice sounding overly loud. 

Jean didn’t say anything, just set the picture down with something like reverence before scooping the six year old into his arms and hugging him tightly. 

“That’s very okay,” Jean said, stroking the boy’s hair as he held him. Armin turned just enough to get a look at them, but when he saw the shine in Jean’s eyes he turned away, wanting to give the two of them the moment they deserved. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief, a reassurance that _finally_ things had worked out. 

“Armin, the hell do you think you’re doing? Get over here,” Jean demanded gruffly.

And Armin was glad there wasn’t a reason to speak, because if there were, he’d have been speechless with gratitude and joy as he felt Jean’s arm wrap around his waist and Marco’s wrap around his neck and those were certainly not tears of joy stinging at his eyes or dripping down his cheeks. 

“Armin! What’s wrong?” Marco gasped. Armin laughed sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just…happy,” he said. 

“But why are you crying if you’re happy?” 

“Because sometimes people get so happy they just can’t contain it all,” Armin said, breaking the hug to wipe at his eyes. Marco looked at him for a moment, still held in Jean’s arms.

“Adults are weird,” he pronounced and Armin and Jean laughed in unison, the sound warming Armin to his core. He decided then and there that Jean’s laugh was one of the most enchanting sounds he’d ever heard, and he vowed to make it happen as often as he could.

They spent the rest of the evening in high spirits, teaching Marco how to eat with chopsticks and sharing off each other’s plates, and eventually falling asleep on the couch as a pile of limbs and blankets and a failed pillow fort while a Disney movie played in the background. They ended the night on such a good note that it never occurred to Armin to ask where Jean had gone that afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hopefully last week's update didn't scare any of you off haha! As you can see, everything is working out just fine for our little trio! Hopefully you're enjoying the story and as always, thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

It was Sunday evening when the subject finally came up again. Marco was already in bed for the night and Armin and Jean were out on the couch together with Jean sitting up flipping through channels and Armin spread out with his feet on Jean’s lap reading a book – something he finally had time for and could do without feeling guilty. 

“So…you’ve probably been wondering where I was yesterday afternoon,” Jean said, in a tone that smacked of practiced nonchalance. 

Armin couldn’t say he was surprised; he had gotten the feeling that Jean had wanted to bring this up all day. He bookmarked his page and set the book down across his stomach. He didn’t know what this was about, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be good. He was beginning to feel a bit disheartened, honestly. It seemed like every time something good happened to them, something bad happened almost immediately after. Couldn’t things just be simple for a while? Couldn’t they just enjoy being happy for an entire day? Jean seemed to sense the change in Armin’s mood almost immediately after opening his mouth. 

“I mean, it’s nothing _super_ serious. I think I can handle it on my own if you prefer; it’s my responsibility anyways.” Armin looked at him exasperatedly. 

“Jean, I know we haven’t been together long,” he said, ignoring the little snort of laughter he got, “but if we’re going to be serious about this relationship, then don’t try and pull that.” 

“Pull what?” 

“I get that you’re successful, and that you’re independent and self-sufficient and all that, but don’t try to shoulder everything yourself,” Armin said plainly. Jean raised an eyebrow. 

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he protested. Armin gave him a ‘look’. 

“I’m not! I just don’t want to stress you out,” he muttered. Armin laughed, both because Jean was really very sweet under his rough exterior, and because he considered himself rather used to stress at this point in his life. 

“I’m sure I can handle it. What, did you cheat on me?” he asked. Jean looked scandalized.

“Of course not! Is that seriously what you-” 

“Relax Jean, I know you wouldn’t. I was kidding. Now come on, lay it on me.” 

Jean was still frowning and Armin wondered if perhaps he really had offended him. In retrospect, it hadn’t been a very nice thing to say… Well, if he had to, he could always make up for it later, he was sure. Finally the brunette took a deep breath. 

“Marco’s grandparents are planning on making a trip here. They want to meet him.”

Armin stared at him blankly. 

“What?”

“I know. It’s…out of the blue to say the least. That’s where I was yesterday; I went to go talk to my lawyer. I have a bad feeling about it.” 

Armin tried to look on the bright side. 

“But maybe it’s a good thing! I mean, Marco just lost his mom, and they lost their daughter…maybe it would be good for all of them if they met.” 

Jean looked skeptical. 

“I mean, have you met them?” Armin pressed. 

“Well…no, but the way Mina talked about them…I mean hell Armin, I don’t think they spoke to her once before she died.” 

Armin had to admit that didn’t sound very promising. But still… 

“Well, then it makes that much more sense for them to reach out now. I can tell you’re not a fan of the idea, and I don’t blame you but…you’ve got custody, right? What could it hurt?” 

Jean rubbed his fingers absently over Armin’s bare shin, giving him goosebumps. 

“Yeah,” the other man finally said. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.” Armin smiled. 

“I’m sure you won’t regret it.” Jean grunted in response. “I’m proud of you.” And now Armin saw the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Jean’s lips. Armin nudged his toe into Jean’s side, still grinning at him. 

“I really can’t stand it when you look so smug,” Jean said, trying to sound annoyed. 

Armin nudged him again and then let out a yelp when Jean grabbed his feet and began tickling him mercilessly. Armin struggled, but in vain. No matter how he twisted or squirmed he couldn’t get free and Jean didn’t relent until he was red in the face and gasping for breath. With as much dignity as he could muster he pulled his feet away and moved to the other end of the couch where, if he’d had his way, he would’ve stayed; as far away as possible from Jean’s treacherous hands. 

But of course Jean managed to coax him back over. To his credit, Jean made up for his betrayal by hooking an arm over Armin’s shoulder and running his long fingers through Armin’s hair, just the way he liked it. 

“When are they coming?” he asked. He felt Jean shrug against him. 

“I haven’t given them the okay yet. They know they can’t see him without my permission. Once I do? My guess is as soon as possible.” 

The two lapsed into silence, both of them contemplating what this most recent development would mean for them. 

As it turned out, “as soon as possible” was decided to be two weeks from Monday, just in time for Marco’s seventh birthday. They would stay in the hotel and Jean - at Armin’s insistence – would be the one picking them up from the airport, rather than sending a driver. Or at least that was the current plan. Armin had no doubt that Jean would try to talk him into sending a driver instead, since his goal was – as far as Armin could tell – to spend as little time with them as possible. But, for the time being at least, they could go on with their lives and Jean seemed especially determined to do just that. 

Armin couldn’t blame him. Even if it was only a brief calm before the storm, it felt nice to be able to act like a normal family. And, to Armin at least, part of that entailed introducing Jean to Mikasa and Eren; not only as his employer, but also as his boyfriend too. The blond had to admit he felt bad. It was true he had been both busy and rather preoccupied the last few weeks, but that was no excuse for him to have lost touch with them as he had. 

The last time he and Eren had talked was more than a week ago and their “conversation” had only consisted of a few brief text messages in which Armin had declined to come hang out at a bar that night because he knew he’d never get Marco to school on time the next morning if he did. Arming sighed. Thinking back on it, he probably could’ve asked Jean for one morning off, especially knowing what he knew now. Hindsight really was 20/20. But now he could finally make up for his absence. 

He started by shooting Mikasa a text asking when she was off duty next and then grabbed the calendar off the fridge so he could mark some dates in it, figuring it was as much his calendar as anyone else’s now. 

“Hey Jean, when’s your birthday?” he asked as he marked his, Eren’s and Mikasa’s down. 

“April 7th,” Jean said from the sink where he was rinsing out a bowl from the ice cream they’d had after dinner. Armin turned to him, positively aghast. 

“I missed it?” Jean looked at him, clearly puzzled by his reaction.

“Well, it’s not like I told you. How would you have known?” 

“I don’t know but…why didn’t you tell me?” Armin demanded. “Marco and I could’ve made you a cake or _something_!” 

Jean frowned. 

“Uh, Armin? It was more than a month ago. And if you’ll remember, you and I weren’t…well, making a point of telling you it was my birthday didn’t really seem like something anyone would benefit from, let’s leave it at that.” 

Instantly Armin felt ashamed. Their relationship even then, four months after Armin had started, was so rocky and unpredictable that Jean hadn’t even mentioned his birthday. Armin sighed and then yelped as he was hit by several droplets of water that Jean had flung from his fingers. 

“Don’t sweat it. We’ll do something for it next year,” Jean said and then turned to put the bowls in the dishwasher.

Armin was glad, because there was no way he could deny the blush on his cheeks at the idea that Jean thought they’d still be together then. The sound of his phone buzzing on the counter distracted him. Mikasa – by some miracle – was free that weekend, and Eren had even put in a request for time off, though it had yet to be approved. Well, Armin was sure that was no matter. 

“Hey Jean? You still want to meet Eren and Mikasa, right?” he asked. Jean looked up at him and then shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean they’re your friends, so I’ll have to meet them eventually.” 

If Armin didn’t know better he’d say Jean was nervous. He pushed the thought aside, deciding it was something he’d deal with later. He was quite certain that they’d like him. He would just have to…spin it the right way, at first. 

Armin called them on Tuesday to let them know that Jean had pulled a few strings to get Eren’s time off request pushed through and set up a get together with the four of them at the end of the week. He didn’t _exactly_ tell them it was going to be a double date, just that a few things had changed between him and Jean since the last time they’d seen each other. 

He wasn’t sure _why_ he hadn’t been one hundred percent honest – it wasn’t like he was ashamed of it – but when the moment had come for them to ask what the occasion was, Armin just sort of clammed up and told them he wanted to do something for Jean’s birthday, since he had missed it in April. If either one of them found it strange, they had the courtesy not to call him out on it, with the exception of Eren declaring that he was “too nice”. 

When he got off the phone he caught Jean looking at him, but to Armin’s surprise he seemed amused rather than hurt or disappointed. 

“Couldn’t tell them you’ve stooped to dating your boss, huh?” he asked. Armin felt himself go red in the face. 

“It’s not like that! They just…”

“Wouldn’t understand?” Jean supplied. 

“I guess. But because of me, not you. I’m not…usually a rule breaker, I guess?” he admitted. 

“Usually?” 

“Well, there are certain…um, _circumstances_. Like-” 

“Like having a boss who’s so hot you couldn’t keep your eyes off him?” Jean interrupted, waggling his eyebrows. Armin snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“Right. Like I’m the one who has a problem keeping their eyes to themselves,” he retorted. 

“Oh face it Armin, you were never very discreet. Not that I’m complaining; it made it so much easier to make you flustered, knowing you at least liked how I looked,” Jean admitted, sounding incredibly smug. 

And that was when Armin realized.

“You! That night with the pizza! And you took your shirt off! I knew it! I knew you did that on purpose!” he exclaimed. Jean laughed, not looking even remotely guilty. 

“Oh come on, you were so cute, trying so hard not to stare at me,” he chuckled. Armin’s indignant response was prevented by Marco’s appearance in the kitchen. 

“Daaaad, Arminnn, it’s game night! What’s taking so long?” the boy demanded.

“Coming Marco. You dad just told me something very interesting, and I got distracted,” Armin apologized. 

“What’d he tell you?” Marco asked curiously. 

“Oh don’t worry, it’s grown up stuff. I’ll just have to teach him a lesson, is all,” Armin said. Marco giggled and pointed at Jean. 

“You’re in trouble,” he said in a sing-song voice. Jean just smirked. 

“I guess I am. But that’s okay; Armin’s too nice to do anything about it,” Jean replied. Marco considered this for a moment. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he finally agreed, much to Armin’s dismay and then scampered off, evidently quite pleased with himself. Armin rounded on Jean. 

“Just you wait, I’m serious,” he said sternly, shaking his finger at the brunette. Jean had moved closer to him now and put a hand on each of his hips, pulling him close. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he breathed into Armin’s ear before pressing a kiss on his neck just below it. 

“B-both,” Armin said, cursing himself for stammering. 

“I hope so,” Jean murmured before leaning in to press his lips to Armin’s in a surprisingly heated kiss. 

“Ewwwwwwww!!!!” Marco had returned, evidently not satisfied with their speed – or lack thereof. Armin pulled away and – to hide his own embarrassment – grinned wickedly at Marco. 

“What, do you want one too?” he asked, puckering up. Marco’s eyes widened. 

“No! No kissy germs, get awayyyy!” he shouted and barreled out of the kitchen and down the hall. They heard his door slam a few seconds later and both adults chuckled. Armin turned to find Jean looking at him with a certain kind of fondness that made his knees feel weak. 

“What?” he demanded. But Jean just shook his head and pecked him on the cheek. 

“I’ll go get the monkey, you set up the game,” he said. Armin nodded and watched him go, unaware that that same fondness was mirrored in his own eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...maybe some of you saw that coming, maybe not, but I know where I'm planning on taking the story and hopefully it doesn't get too predictable haha. Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	16. Chapter 16

Armin did his best not to fidget in the passenger seat as Jean walked around to get in the driver’s side. They were in one of the fancy cars, despite Armin’s near pleading that they take something less ostentatious. But Jean had refused, claiming that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t taken Armin out in one of them yet. Armin wasn’t sure what his true motivations were, but he suspected it might be some form of intimidation. Either that or he was going to bribe Eren for his approval by offering for the chef to take it for a drive. The idea of either one of them left Armin less than thrilled. But he didn’t say anything to Jean, mostly because once they left the hotel it became very apparent that Jean liked to drive fast, so Armin spent the majority of the rid with his lips firmly sealed for fear that he’d throw up.

“You okay? You’re looking a little green there,” Jean commented as he pulled into a spot outside the bar. Armin nodded and took a deep breath of fresh air once he was out of the car. 

“Oh come on, I’m not a bad driver,” Jean protested at Armin’s theatrics. 

“No, you just don’t seem to feel that speed limits apply to you,” Armin pointed out. 

Jean shrugged in a way that convinced Armin he had hit the nail on the head. Armin just rolled his eyes and ushered Jean in. He hoped it wouldn’t be a repeat of their date; the bar wasn’t a hole in the wall but it wasn’t upscale either. It was somewhere he, Eren and Mikasa had come out during their more carefree college days. But Jean didn’t say anything, just followed Armin over to the table where his friends were already seated. Armin greeted them both with hugs while Jean stood off to the side, somehow managing to not look awkward at all. 

“Eren, Mikasa, this is Jean Kirchstein my-”

“We know he’s your boss, Armin,” Eren interrupted, looking at Jean as though he were sizing him up. Armin resisted the urge to smack his forehead in exasperation. 

“Actually, it’s a little more complicated than that. See, Jean is actually-” 

“I’m his boyfriend,” Jean said plainly, holding out his hand. “You must be Eren.” 

And oh god, Armin could definitely see this turning into a pissing match between them. To be fair, Eren’s reaction was somewhat comical. At first his eyes went very wide and then narrowed as he frowned. He didn’t move and Armin was beginning to worry. He tried to catch Eren’s eye to try to convey to him to _please move his arm and shake Jean’s hand_ but Eren was still staring Jean down as if trying to process what he had just heard. Thankfully Mikasa intervened. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you. I’m Mikasa,” she said, more or less elbowing Eren out of the way so she could shake the man’s hand instead. 

“Don’t mind my husband. He doesn’t take change very well,” she said.

“I noticed,” Jean said smoothly. And now Armin could feel himself really beginning to panic. This was not the time for Jean’s cocky, arrogant attitude. Oh, why oh why had he done this to himself? 

“Babe, you gonna sit down?” Jean asked, motioning to the spot next to him. And in that second everything he was worrying about vanished, if only for a moment. Jean had called him ‘babe’. Somehow that one word made him stupidly happy and he slid into the booth, close enough to Jean that their thighs were pressed together. None of Armin’s boyfriends had ever really used pet names before, at least not out in public or in front of his friends. Jean somehow seemed to know he had done something particularly right and reached under the table to give Armin’s knee a little squeeze. 

“So how long have you guys been dating then?” Eren asked in a tone that wasn’t quite hostile but was still unnecessarily defensive. 

“Um…about a week I guess?” Armin supplied. Eren made a derisive noise, opened his mouth and then closed it with a wince. Mikasa looked every bit as composed and politely interested as she had before, but Armin got the feeling she had kicked him under the table. 

“Well what prompted that?” she asked. “I mean, no offense to you Jean, but the last time Armin mentioned you he wasn’t…well, it didn’t seem like you two were getting along so well,” she said. Armin felt himself blush and made himself busy looking down at the menu. He hadn’t mentioned to Jean that the night they had come to his place had basically been a blow-by-blow account of every dickish thing Jean had done since Armin had moved in. 

“Well that’s because we weren’t,” Jean admitted freely, surprising Armin somewhat.

“Can’t imagine that’s because you got him fired from his last job,” Eren muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. 

“Actually, it wasn’t,” Jean said evenly. 

“Oh really? Then what was it?” Eren asked, his tone still toeing that line between annoyed and downright aggressive. 

“Anyways!” Armin said loudly, getting both their attention before it could turn into something worse. Why did things have to be this way? 

“As to what prompted it well, I…don’t really know, actually. I mean, I went out on a date with this guy and then when I came home, well, Jean sort of just…”

“I made sure it wasn’t serious and then tried to convince him to date me instead,” Jean said, summing it up rather well. Mikasa had a knowing smile on her face. 

“He turned you down, didn’t he?” she asked. 

“More or less,” Jean explained. 

“But you’re dating now. What’d you do, threaten to fire him?” Eren asked, still hell bent on being a stubborn idiot. Jean opened his mouth to reply but Armin had had enough. He stood up abruptly. 

“Eren, can I talk to you for a second? Outside?” 

Eren looked instantly ashamed, realizing at last that in his quest to defend his friend’s honor or whatever it was he was doing, that he had overstepped his bounds. But he got up and followed Armin out onto the street without complaint. Armin took a deep breath once they were outside. 

“Why are you doing this Eren?” he asked. Eren kicked at the sidewalk with his toe and Armin was reminded of Marco whenever he was being reprimanded. 

“It’s just…a little too convenient for him, you know?” Eren muttered.

“No, I don’t know,” Armin replied, folding his arms but still trying to keep his tone from sounding accusatory. 

“Well, just, everything you said about him, and now he’s got you wrapped around his pinky finger. I mean you should’ve seen your face when he called you ‘babe’, Armin. And you’re still working for him and everything. It’s like…I dunno, it’s like he’s paying you to be his live-in sex-slave or something,” Eren said. Armin couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Eren, I appreciate you trying to look out for me, but I promise, it’s not like that. Look, I was…wrong about Jean, in a lot of ways. And I know he seems cocky and arrogant, but so do you sometimes. But that doesn’t mean either of you is a bad person. You guys are a lot more alike than you’d think,” Armin explained.

“But still! I-”

“Eren, you are my best friend, and you’ve always had my back and I appreciate that, I do. But I really… _really_ like this guy, and it would mean a lot to me if you would at least get to know him before you decide you hate his guts,” Armin said as gently as he could. Eren huffed out a breath. 

“You like him that much, huh?” 

Armin nodded.

“Even though he got you fired?”

“That’s in the past Eren. If I can get over it, you can too.” 

Eren sighed again. 

“Fine, I’ll…give him a chance,” Eren said, in a manner that reminded Armin of a child being scolded into doing their chores. But a moment later Eren smiled at him. “You’re my best friend too you know. Practically my little brother. Like hell I’m not gonna put that guy through the ringer,” he said. 

Armin hit him in the arm.

“Ass,” he muttered and the two headed back in, with Armin feeling much more confident about the outcome of the night. 

“Everything okay?” Jean asked as Armin sat down beside him. 

“Yep, everything’s fine. Sorry about that.” Jean shrugged. 

“No problem. Mikasa was just telling me what it’s like being a cop,” he said. Armin nodded. 

“So…Armin, you wanna finish telling us how lover boy here got you to date him?” Eren asked and Armin was torn between affection and exasperation. Eren had agreed to give Jean a chance, but Armin knew him well enough to know he was still going to do it his way. But still, he wasn’t going to go looking a gift horse in the mouth. 

“Well, he turned me down on the grounds that while I was ridiculously good looking and he couldn’t keep his eyes off me, it would probably be inappropriate to date his boss,” Jean told them, glancing at Armin with a devious grin. Armin was beyond even knowing how to express his amused exasperation and simply let Jean continue. 

“But I figured, what the hell, right? Because he didn’t turn me down because I was a shitty human being, so maybe I still had a chance.” 

“So then he starts acting all dad of the year and actually sitting down with Marco and treating him like his son. And at first I was pissed because I thought, who the hell uses a kid like that? Does he really think that’s going to win me over?” Armin interjected.

Beside him Armin saw Jean shaking his head with a smile, as if he still couldn’t believe Armin had thought him capable. 

“But then…I don’t know, he said something to me, he told me that actually getting to know Marco was helping him, because it kept his mind off me, and it made them both happy. And I realized that he was being serious and he wasn’t just trying to coerce me into getting into bed with him and…well, I thought it couldn’t hurt to give him a chance and…yeah. Here we are,” Armin finished, unable to help but feel as if it were a rather anticlimactic ending. 

“Well I have to say, I’m surprised,” Mikasa said. 

“Because I broke the rules?” Armin asked. Mikasa raised a slender eyebrow. 

“No, because you actually let yourself have something you wanted,” she said. Armin frowned, not understanding. 

“You’re bad at taking what you want if you think it’ll negatively impact the other people in your life,” she clarified.

“That’s not true!” he protested.

“Dude, we have two extra bedrooms and you wouldn’t move in with use because you didn’t want to be a burden, even though it would have been like a million times easier for you,” Eren reminded him. 

“Not to mention you donated all those rare books your grandpa had instead of selling them because you knew it was what he wanted,” Mikasa chimed in. 

“And you were more worried about what would happen to Marco if we broke up when you turned me down, instead of yourself,” Jean pointed out and Armin had to wonder when and how the tables had turned so suddenly. 

“Now wait a minute! I-” 

“Face it Armin, you’re too selfless,” Jean teased.

“And what am I supposed to do, just take advantage of everyone who offers any sort of kindness?” Armin protested in mock outrage.

“No, but you could actually take people up on it,” Mikasa said with a smile. 

“Oh this is ridiculous! I bring my boyfriend out here to meet you and now you’ve all ganged up on me! I call bullshit!” Armin said, but couldn’t stop himself from laughing as he said it.

It felt as though a weight had been lifted. Perhaps Jean and Eren would never be best friends, but at least there would be no all-out wars between them. He hoped. So they drank and they talked and Jean even managed to make Eren cackle with some story or another and then they called it a night.

As it turned out, Jean _had_ brought the car with the intention of letting Eren take it for a drive, apparently, because he offered after dinner but Mikasa quickly put her foot down, telling Jean that Eren would not be getting behind the wheel of a car that cost more than their house, even if he had only had one beer. There was something about the look on Jean’s face as the two of them got back into the bright yellow sports car that made Armin suspicious though. After a short moment of contemplation Armin smacked him in the arm. 

“What the hell?” Jean asked, looking at him bewilderedly. 

“You never had any intention of letting him drive it, did you? That’s why you offered after dinner. You knew Mikasa would say no.” 

Jean gave him a guilty smile. 

“Oh you are such an ass!” Armin laughed.

“Well come on, I had to make him think I’d let him! How else was I going to make him like me?” Jean protested. Armin rolled his eyes. 

“You are ridiculous,” he said. 

“Maybe, but it worked, didn’t it?” 

Armin nodded thoughtfully. 

“Yeah…it did,” he finally agreed, and it was harmless anyways. Eren would never know. They lapsed into what Armin felt was a comfortable silence, but Jean’s next question told him otherwise. 

“So…did they like me?” Jean asked quietly and it was in that tone of voice that Armin so rarely heard from him – a tone that spoke of uncertainty – that Armin couldn’t help but reach over and take Jean’s hand as they stopped at a red light. 

“I think they did. And if they didn’t, well that’s too bad, because I certainly do,” he said. Jean gave his hand a squeeze and then quickly released it so he could shift gears. 

“Hey Armin?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m taking you to bed when we get home.” 

There was a pause and Armin said quietly, “Marco is there.” 

“He’ll be in bed when we get back.” 

“…Okay. Yes, please,” Armin agreed, reaching over to rest his hand on Jean’s thigh. 

Armin did his best to thank the babysitter properly – and ignore the feelings of guilt that Jean should even have to hire a babysitter with him living there – and not rush her out the door but it was difficult when all he wanted was to get into the bedroom with Jean and feel his hands on him. Finally, finally she was gone, and Armin made a quick check on Marco to see that he was fast asleep – though judging by the way the blankets were pulled up to his chin and his dog had been placed beside him, Jean had already been in. The thought of that made Armin want to go to him even more. 

When he finally made it to Jean’s door, he hesitated and was about to knock when he heard Jean chuckle, low and rich.

“Come in you idiot, you know I’m waiting for you,” he laughed. 

Armin felt his face heat but pushed open the door none the less. Jean was sitting on the edge of the bed facing him, leaning back with his palms against the mattress and a confident little smile that set Armin’s heart racing. He was gorgeous. Armin padded over to him and lifted himself onto Jean’s lap, straddling him. Jean shifted to put his hands on Armin’s ass, giving it a firm squeeze as the blond wrapped his arms around his neck and leaned down to kiss him. Everything about this was different than last time, Armin could feel it. The kiss was slow and sensual instead of a rushed, frenzied thing fueled by need. 

“Missed this,” Armin murmured against Jean’s lips as he pulled away. Jean chuckled. 

“Yeah…having a six year old around definitely makes it hard to get in the mood,” Jean agreed, moving his hands up to slide them under Armin’s shirt. 

A few seconds later he pulled the shirt off and tossed it in the general direction of the laundry basket and returned his hands to their previous location. Jean peppered his bare chest with kisses, lifting him up to get access to one of Armin’s nipples, biting it gently and causing Armin to suck in a sharp breath. He felt Jean’s breath ghosting against his skin, the scrape of his stubble as he moved onto the other pebbled nub. Finally he couldn’t take anymore teasing and he reached up, curling his fingers in Jean’s hair, tugging his head back and taking another kiss. Jean groaned into his mouth and Armin lowered himself down again, grinding his hips a little and feeling Jean’s erection through his pants. 

“God Armin…you’re so sexy,” Jean muttered as Armin began working his way down Jean’s shirt, unbuttoning it and then pushing it off the other’s shoulders. 

“I try,” Armin laughed, and then Jean was rolling him onto the mattress and working on his pants. 

“What’s the sudden rush?” Armin asked, levering himself off the mattress so Jean could get his pants down faster. 

“No rush. Just want to be able to see all of you again,” Jean murmured. Armin laughed and let Jean continue before he removed his own pants as well. 

“Much better,” Armin said approvingly. Jean moved between his legs and Armin sat up. 

“Wait, wait. You did that last time,” he said. Jean frowned. 

“So?” 

“So…it’s my turn,” Armin said, patting the spot beside him and quickly trading places with Jean. 

“Where’s the lube?” he asked. 

“In the nightstand, why?” Jean asked, propping himself up on his elbows and watching him. Armin gave him a suggestive smile before reaching to grab the bottle and a condom. 

“You’ll see in a minute. For now, just relax, okay?” Jean put his hands behind his head and leaned back with a languid smile. 

“Okay.” 

Armin positioned himself between Jean’s legs and leaned down, trailing his tongue from Jean’s balls up his shaft and swirling it around the wide mushroom head. Jean made an appreciative noise and Armin smiled to himself for a brief second before taking just the tip of Jean’s cock into his mouth, sucking it gently and running his tongue around it in circles. The noise Jean made this time was a bit more frustrated and he tried to buck his hips up and get more of himself into Armin’s mouth. But the blond wouldn’t have it. 

“Nope, we’re going at my pace tonight. I told you I’d get you back for that comment about being too nice,” he reminded the man beneath him.

Jean groaned and dropped his head back to the pillows but Armin just smirked and continued his leisurely pace, pressing kisses to the inside of Jean’s thighs, running his tongue along the man’s velvet length and occasionally taking a bit more into his mouth for a brief hint of things to come. It wasn’t until he heard Jean give a whispered plea and he looked up to see something near desperation in his lover’s eyes that he picked up the pace. 

As he took Jean into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down and doing his best to give Jean a blowjob he’d never forget, he used a free hand to uncap the lube – fumbling with it just a little – and squeezed it onto his fingers. Jean was –as Armin had planned – much too distracted to notice as Armin slipped a hand around his back, pressing his own fingers inside of himself to prepare. Between the feeling of his fingers stretching his hole and the sounds and movements Jean was making, Armin was harder than he could remember being in a long time. Only when Jean was close to finishing did he relent, pulling away from Jean’s cock with a slight ‘pop’ noise. 

“…You probably have no idea how fucking sexy you look right now, do you?” Jean murmured breathlessly. Armin smirked. 

“I could say the same about you,” he teased, and it was true with Jean lying there, pupils blown wide and eyes half-lidded, eager and willing beneath Armin’s hands and mouth. 

“But the show’s just getting started,” he murmured and reached down to get the condom, tearing it open and rolling it over Jean’s cock. 

“W-wait…Armin you didn’t-” 

“And what exactly did you think I was doing while you were laying there with my mouth around your dick?” Armin quipped.

Jean swallowed and it looked as if he tried to say something but no sound came out. Armin had to admit, it was exhilarating, knowing how much power he had over Jean in that moment. Not that he got off on that kind of thing, but he was so used to Jean being the sure one, the one who hardly ever seemed to doubt himself and who could make Armin’s heart race and his knees feel weak with just a glance that knowing that he had caused Jean to look and feel as he did now it was…incredible. 

“Armin, I can’t tell if you’re making me wait just to tease me or if I’ve lost you there,” Jean said, sounding just a little strained. Armin gave a guilty smile and moved to straddle Jean’s hips. 

“Sorry, I was just admiring you,” he admitted. 

Jean gave a hum of approval and lifted his hands to Armin’s hips, stroking his thumb over the skin there. He could feel Jean’s fingers pressing into his hips, trying to pull him down but Armin resisted, keeping his eyes locked onto Jean’s as he moved down slowly, feeling the familiar stretch and slight burn as Jean filled him up. But he had done plenty to prepare himself, so it didn’t take him long to adjust and start moving. 

He knew he had Jean wrapped around his pinky finger at the moment, that he could take his time, draw it out and torture Jean with whatever pace he set. And perhaps if Armin were a more vindictive person, he might’ve. But at that moment, all he wanted to do was feel the friction of Jean inside of him and memorize every pleasured expression that Jean made. So he started off slow to find a good rhythm and a good angle and when he found it he did his best to keep a steady pace. 

And then Jean bucked his hips up as Armin sank back down, pegging his gland and causing him to give a startled gasp of pleasure. Jean seemed to enjoy the blond’s reaction, because suddenly he was gripping Armin’s hips tighter, pulling him down to meet his him as he thrust up. Armin braced his hands on Jean’s chest, his head hanging between his arms as he gasped and moaned, practically whimpering Jean’s name. 

“God you’re so good Armin…so fucking beautiful like this,” Jean panted as he continued. Above him, Armin made a desperate sort of noise as the brunette’s words sent another thrill of pleasure down his spine.

“Come on baby, touch yourself,” Jean murmured. 

Armin obliged, reaching to grip at his own hard cock and rubbing at it. There was no rhythm to his movements, he was too close and he gave Jean hardly any warning before he came just a few moments later. The feel of him tightening up as he flew rather than slid over the edge set Jean off as well and the man buried himself fully in Armin’s ass he came, growling his name and squeezing the firm flesh of his rear. Armin dropped his head to Jean’s chest, panting against his skin as he came down. 

For a moment Jean didn’t move and then Armin felt the man’s fingers running through his hair and for some reason that simple gesture left Armin feeling floored. And then Armin realized that he had just finished cumming all over Jean’s stomach and that he should probably go get a rag to wipe it off. 

“Where are you rushing off to?” Jean asked, sounding sated and very pleased. Armin motioned to his stomach and it seemed as though Jean had just noticed the mess Armin had made. 

“Oh. No, you lay down and get comfy. I’ll go take care of it,” he said. Armin smiled to himself and did as he was told, burrowing under the soft sheets and waiting for Jean to return. When he did Armin waited for him to get under the blankets and then draped himself on top of him, hooking an arm over his chest and a leg over Jean’s longer ones. 

“So…you’re pretty demanding in the bedroom, aren’t you?” Jean mused. Armin was glad Jean couldn’t see his face as he shrugged. 

“No…I just know what I like,” he said. 

“You certainly do. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I’m just…” 

“Surprised?” Jean shook his head at Armin’s questions.

“I don’t know if that’s the right word. It’s more like it makes me…hm…even hotter for you,” Jean admitted, without a touch of self-consciousness. Armin didn’t know what to say to that, but it made him feel very much like a high-schooler who’d just been given their first kiss. 

“I can’t wait to see what you do when we break out the handcuffs,” Jean said. Armin froze. 

“What?” And then he felt Jean chuckle beneath him. 

“I’m kidding, relax.” 

There was silence as Armin settled back down again and closed his eyes, sleepiness finally creeping up on him. 

“Unless you want to I mean,” Jean said suggestively. Armin smacked his chest lightly. 

“Go to sleep you kinky idiot,” he muttered. Jean gave another quiet laugh and then silence reigned for a long while.

“…I’ll think about it,” the blond murmured, already half asleep. Somehow, even though he couldn’t see his face, Armin was sure Jean was grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so clearly this is a _very_ long chapter, but hopefully that's a good thing for you guys. It didn't seem to me that there was a good stopping point for the chapter that wouldn't lead to the next chapter being entirely sex, which is just something I'm not a fan of doing if I can avoid it. I really hope all of you are enjoying the story so far and thanks for sticking with me this long or for giving the story a chance if you're new!


	17. Chapter 17

“Don’t forget, we have to be there at four thirty,” Armin reminded Jean as he pecked him on the lips before ushering him towards the door. 

Jean had lately taken to staying a bit later in the mornings before going to work, and Armin knew without asking that it was so he could spend a few minutes with him after he dropped Marco off at school. 

“I know, I know,” Jean said, setting his coffee down to put his shoes on. 

“Okay, well, it’s his last day of school and all and I want us both to be there,” Armin said. 

Marco’s kindergarten class was putting on a performance for the parents after school and Armin had insisted Jean come. And then, once it was over, Jean was finally going to make good on his promise to buy Marco a dog. Armin wasn’t sure if he had waited so long in the hopes that Marco would forget the agreement – he hadn’t – or for some other reason – Armin couldn’t think of one, but that didn’t mean Jean hadn’t. So they would go to the recital and then to the local shelter – which had actually been Jean’s idea. 

For some reason he supposed that since Jean had the money, he’d probably want to buy a purebred puppy from somewhere, but Jean had been insistent on picking up a dog from a shelter and giving it a new home. Armin had to admit the conversation left him feeling disappointed in himself. Here he was, dating Jean now and still completely capable of making assumptions based on those preconceived rich-boy notions he apparently still had. He would’ve like to think he had outgrown those by now, since Jean had shattered just about every single one of them, but to took a five minute conversation to prove otherwise. Armin couldn’t help but feel that if his life were a novel, it would be Pride and Prejudice, and _he_ would be the one with both. 

Armin shook his head, drained the last of his coffee from his mug and then turned to go tackle the chores. As he usually did, he turned the speakers up rather loud and danced around like it was nobody’s business as he dusted and vacuumed and of course, scrubbed the toilets. Armin still laughed sometimes – now that it was well in the past – over Jean’s preoccupation with whether or not he was up to the task. What kind of person applied to be a live in housekeeper and didn’t know how to clean toilets? Some people really did seem to lack common sense. 

By the time Armin finished he realized he had just enough time to jump in the shower and get dressed before Jean got back. Armin couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little at the thought of that. For all Jean talked about working long hours to get to where he was, he seemed perfectly fine going in later and coming home earlier than he ever had before. Armin guessed he shouldn’t complain about it; it was nice to be able to spend time with him, especially now while they were very much still in their honeymoon phase. Jean had even gone so far as to come home during his lunch break earlier in the week to spend some ‘time’ with Armin, and he certainly wasn’t complaining about _that_. 

But still…it was probably because Armin was just worried. What if Jean started taking too much time off because of him? Of course he knew the idea of that was ridiculous – as far as Armin could tell, Jean made time for two things in his life; he and Marco, and work – but still he worried. Mostly for the same reason he had worried before hearing the news about Marco’s grandparents coming, which was that when things went right for this long, Armin couldn’t help but get anxious about it. It was a bad habit, he knew, but it was hard to break a habit that always seemed right. 

Armin shook his head under the towel as he dried his hair. No reason to go get all melancholy. Jean was coming home and they were going to go to Marco’s performance and then get a dog and Armin swallowed hard at just how much all that made them seem like a family. The idea of it ending terrified him and he had to look in the mirror and remind himself several times that there was no reason it had to, and even if it did, it wouldn’t be for a long time. Armin said it until the face in the mirror seemed acceptably convinced. 

He finished toweling off and then went into his bedroom – he and Jean shared a bed at night but he still hadn’t moved his things into the other man’s room – to get dressed. He wanted to look nice since Marco’s teachers and a lot of other parents and nannies would be there and while most of them had been accepting of Armin being at Marco’s other events and field trips a male nanny was apparently still enough to make people talk, even in this day and age and he didn’t want to give them anything to talk about if he could help it. 

He tied half his hair back into a pony tail after he dried it and let the rest hand down, just above his shoulders now that he had gotten a trim. He heard the front door open and close just as he walked out of his room and headed towards the kitchen to see Jean setting down his laptop briefcase near the door. The brunette looked up and groaned when he saw him.

“What?” Armin asked, genuinely confused by Jean’s reaction. 

“I forgot how fucking good you look in those pants,” he said. Armin looked down, examining himself and turning just enough to give Jean a glimpse of his ass.

“What? These? You didn’t seem to think they were anything special the first time you saw them,” he said innocently. 

“That’s because you bought them to go out with what’s-his-name,” Jean said, advancing toward Armin with a look that the blond had come to know well. He let Jean pull him close so their bodies were flush against each other and grinned. 

“Erwin?” he supplied. 

“Sure,” Jean breathed, trying to kiss him. Armin turned his head so Jean’s lips could only get to his cheek. 

“No, no sir, there will be none of that right now are we are going to be late to your son’s graduation recital,” Armin chided with a smirk. Jean made a noise that was very nearly a whine.

“Oh come on, you’re doing to this to me on purpose,” he said. 

Armin did his best to look virtuous. 

“I would never do such a thing,” he protested. Jean made that noise again. 

“Come on, we can be a few minutes late. Marco won’t even notice,” Jean said, sliding his hands along Armin’s sides. Armin had to admit, he was tempted but… 

“No, we are going to be there, on time, front row, because I promised! Now go change, go on, get!” Armin said, shooing him away with a laugh. 

He heard Jean mutter something about how he was being punished for Armin being too good at his job and Armin would’ve been lying if he claimed not to have admired him as he walked away. A few minutes later they were in the car – the BMW, to Armin’s relief – and on the way. 

“So what exactly did I sign up to go see?” Jean asked as he navigated his way through traffic.

“I think Marco said it was something about Abraham Lincoln,” Armin said, taking the rare opportunity to actually look at the buildings he passed every morning and afternoon. Jean didn’t say anything in response, but Armin could tell he was relieved that there wouldn’t be singing. 

The couple weren’t the first ones there, but they certainly weren’t the last and they were able to snag two seats in the second row; not quite what Armin had promised, but close enough that Marco – once the kindergartners had filed onto the risers at the front of the room – could clearly see them from where he stood. Jean and Armin waved at him and Marco returned it with a huge smile, evidently pleased as punch that both of them had made it. 

The teacher gave a short speech on the subject and then one by one, all the kindergarteners stepped forward, each giving a line of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address from center stage and then retreating back to their classmates. Armin had to admit, it really was adorable. And the construction paper top hats and fake beards were also a nice touch. There were a few other little skits that went on, with the children performing in small groups – Marco was a tree in his, since he was taller than most of the other students – and then it was over.

Marco came running at them after he and his classmates had been dismissed and while it wasn’t clear which one of them he was initially going towards, Jean was the one who ended up grabbing him up and telling him how good the whole thing was. Armin watched with an immense sense of pride before someone else caught Marco’s attention. 

“Ms. Brzenska, Ms. Brzenska!” Marco shouted, trying to get his teacher’s attention. Jean put him down and they watched him run over to the woman, wait until she acknowledged him and then point back to them. When he returned, Ms. Brzenska was a few steps behind him. 

“Hello Ms. Brzenska,” Armin greeted. 

“Hello Mr. Arlert, it was good of you to come and see the production tonight,” she said cordially. 

Since the first time he met her at parent teacher conferences, Armin had wondered what possessed her to be a kindergarten teacher, but he had never asked. Somehow, as someone who cleaned houses for a living he didn’t really feel that he had the right. She eyed Jean somewhat curiously and he hastened to introduce himself. 

“Hi, sorry, I’m Jean Kirchstein, Marco’s father,” he said, holding out his hand. She took his hand and shook it with a small smile. 

“I must say, I’m rather surprised to see you here,” she said. “Mr. Arlert seems to be the one who usually attends this sort of thing.” Her tone was neither unkind nor accusatory, simply curious. Jean gave that heart stopping smile of his.

“Well that’s because Armin is practically a saint,” Jean said, watching as Marco wandered away to go talk to some of his friends. “I work a lot, and it’s been…well, I’m sure the school informed you of the circumstances behind Marco’s sudden transfer,” he said. Ms. Brzenska nodded sympathetically. 

“Yeah…so it’s been hard on him. I don’t know what we would’ve done if Armin hadn’t come along,” he admitted. Armin could feel himself going very red in the face and he made it look like he was busy keeping an eye on Marco rather than paying attention. But he couldn’t ignore the feeling of Jean’s hand sliding into his own. 

“Well I don’t do that much, really, just-” 

“Oh I can see that. Except you’re only one of five parents or nannies who attend PTA meetings regularly and who always have permission slips signed on time and who never fails to pick their child up on time. Not to mention you volunteered to chaperone all three field trips this year,” she said archly.Armin could feel Jean staring at him. He had mentioned volunteering for the field trips, but not the PTA meetings. 

“Well Jean would do all that if he had time,” he protested. 

Beside him Jean laughed and he was certain the two of them had exchanged a knowing glance, and then she was gone – having been called away by some other eager child – before Armin could say anything else. Beside him Armin heard Jean chuckle. 

“Sounds like I’ve been underpaying you,” he teased. Armin was too flustered to think of a good comeback. “I meant what I said you know. Don’t know what we would’ve done if you hadn’t come along,” Jean murmured. 

“Probably hired someone who didn’t know how to clean a toilet,” Armin replied, finally regaining enough composure to at least grin at him mischievously before going to collect Marco so they could be on their way. 

The entire ride to the shelter Marco chattered nonstop about how excited he was that school was over and how nervous he had been up on stage and how itchy those beards were. And then, once he remembered where they were going, the topic changed to dogs. Armin had to remind him several times that they were only getting a small one and couldn’t help but wonder where he got the idea that he’d be able to ride the dog around like a small horse. 

Armin expected the thing to take a while, after all, most kids were overwhelmed by so many animals and the disappointment that they could only take home one, but Marco surprised him like usual. He had barely spent ten minutes in the kennel before he claimed to have made up his mind. 

“Are you sure that’s the one?” Armin asked, crouching down to get a good look at the pup. If he had to guess he would say it was some sort of beagle mixture, and incredibly cute. Marco nodded. 

“I’m sure,” he said. In Armin’s experience, when Marco was certain about something, he was certain. Like father, like son. A worker came in to come get the dog out of the cage and Marco tugged her jacket. 

“Does he have a name?” he asked. The woman shook her head. 

“Not really. He was found on the side of the road with no tags, but we’ve been calling him Bean,” she said. Marco peered at the dog for a moment and then smiled. 

“Okay, Bean,” he said, petting the dog’s head gently. Bean seemed quite enthused to be meeting a new person and once he was set on the floor he jumped at Marco’s legs for attention. 

“He’s already housebroken as far as we can tell, so you won’t have to worry about that. Plus he’s got a real gentle temperament,” the worker explained. Armin was sure he didn’t imagine the look of relief on Jean’s face. 

“How old is he?” Jean asked. The woman frowned and rubbed the back of her neck. 

“We’re really not sure…he’s still a puppy though, so he can’t be too old,” she said. 

“That’s fine. I just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have to worry about losing him for a long time,” Jean said. Armin turned to look at him and realized he was asking not for his sake, but for Marco’s.

It took a lot of strength not to grab him by the shirt collar and kiss him right then and there. Once the paperwork was all taken care of and Jean had paid the adoption fees, Bean was all theirs. 

Marco demanded to be the one who got to hold his leash on the way to the car and Jean didn’t even complain about the puppy scrabbling excitedly up onto the leather seats in the back of the BMW. Armin was sure he was worried about it somewhere in his mind, but he was doing a very good job of letting Marco enjoy his new companion. Now that they had the dog though, they would need all the supplies to care for it. 

Marco ran around the store like a kid in a candy shop, with Bean close on his heels. Armin had never really seen Jean spoil Marco with his money, honestly. The boy was always well clothed and well fed and had a normal amount of toys, so Armin guessed Jean was doing his best to raise him like someone who _wasn’t_ the son of a multimillionaire. But now Jean indulged him completely, letting him choose whichever toys, dog treats and other supplies he wanted. The total was staggering to Armin, but Jean barely even blinked before swiping his card. At the end of it all, it was hard to say who was happier, Marco or Bean. 

They opted for dinner from a drive-thru so that Armin wouldn’t have to try and cook with the dog running around and exploring everything. Armin had one of those moments where he felt that perhaps Jean could read his mind, because he had been thinking just that when the man turned into the restaurant’s parking lot. By the time they made it home though, Marco had fallen asleep in his booster seat. 

“He looks just like you when he’s sleeping,” Armin said as Jean lifted him out of the seat. 

“Yeah?” Armin smiled and nodded.

“Yeah.” Jean gave Armin a smile and leaned down to press a kiss to the blond’s forehead. Armin blinked, surprised by the sudden tenderness in the gesture. 

“What was that for?” he asked.

Jean just gave a small smile and shook his head. 

“Come on, you get Bean and the food, I’ll put him down to bed,” Jean said. 

Armin nodded and grabbed the food. They could put it in the fridge and warm it up later if Marco woke up and decided he was hungry. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t preoccupied. For some reason, that kiss to his forehead had really shaken him, and not in a bad way. Maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about any of this ending after all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope everyone enjoyed this most recent chapter! I really wanted to highlight the three of them acting as a family and I hope this chapter did that. Thank you all so much for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

“Armin, Armin wake up,” someone said, and Armin vaguely registered that same someone shaking him gently. 

“Come on sleeping beauty, you told me to wake you up before I went to the airport,” the voice said again. 

“Five more minutes,” Armin mumbled, nuzzling against the pillows. 

Armin heard a sigh and smiled to himself in victory as he heard footsteps walking away. He was asleep again before he heard Jean come back, but he was _very_ much awake once he felt the icy touch of death on his back. 

“Motherfucker!” he yelped, bolting upright. Jean was standing innocently at the edge of the bed.

“Good morning sunshine,” he said. Armin glared at him. 

“What was that for?” he asked. Jean laughed. 

“Do you always have such a hard time getting up in the mornings?” he asked. 

“Only when my boyfriend keeps me up having sex all night,” he grumbled. Jean’s grin widened. 

“Yeah, yeah, quit looking at me like that,” Armin said, tossing a pillow in Jean’s direction before glancing over at the clock. He frowned and crossed an arm over his chest, tapping his fingers on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you okay?” Jean asked. Armin shrugged. 

“Just feels like today got here too quickly,” he said quietly. He felt Jean sit down beside him. 

“Sorry, my hands are still cold,” he warned before pulling Armin towards him. Armin didn’t mind nearly as much this time. Jean held him for a long moment and Armin relished every second of it. 

“It’s like you said Armin, it’s all going to work out fine. It’ll be good for Marco, remember?” Jean reminded him. 

“Ah, the old telling me what I want to hear trick, huh?” Armin said with a soft laugh. 

“Yep. Is it working?” 

“A little bit.” Armin could feel Jean’s smile when the man kissed his cheek. 

“Alright then. I’ve got to head out though; their flight gets in at nine and it takes a half hour to get to the airport,” Jean said, getting up off the bed. 

“Okay. I’ll make sure the apartment looks presentable when they get here,” Armin promised. Jean raised an eyebrow. 

“Armin, you keep this place almost immaculate, stop worrying,” he said. 

Armin didn’t say anything, because he knew Jean would argue, but he wasn’t going to let there be so much as a decorative throw pillow out of place when they got here. He could tell himself it would be fine all he wanted, but that didn’t change the fact that he was nervous as hell. 

“Alright, well, I’ll make enough for them to eat in case they’re hungry when they get here.” 

“Or I could just take them through a drive through?” Jean suggested. 

“Jean! They’re our guests!” 

“They aren’t even technically staying with us. Besides, just because you work as my housekeeper doesn’t mean you have to act like their servant,” Jean insisted. Armin frowned. 

“About that….we still haven’t decided-” 

“Armin, I know where you’re going with this and we’ll deal with it when it comes up, but right now, I’ve really got to go,” Jean interrupted. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll see you when you get back,” he sighed. 

Jean leaned down to kiss him again and then hurried out the door. Armin sighed to himself. Jean was deliberately avoiding the subject, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to make him talk about it. Still…Armin shook his head. He had to get dressed and wake Marco up. They had waited to tell him until just a few days ago that his grandparents were coming. Marco had taken the news surprisingly calmly. In fact, his reaction had been so nonchalant that Armin had had to stoop to asking him if he knew what grandparents were. 

“Duh! They’re your mom and dad’s mom and dad,” he had said. 

When Armin had asked him why he wasn’t excited to meet them he had given one of those answers that was frighteningly full of insight and reminded Armin just how perceptive children could be. 

“Well…I’m turning seven next week and they haven’t come to see me ever so…why would I be excited to meet them if they weren’t excited to meet me when I came out of Momma?” Armin could only give a weak smile in response, because what the hell could he say to that? “And also, Momma always looked sad when she talked about them, so I think maybe they didn’t get along very well,” he had added, and wasn’t that just the icing on the cake? 

“Well, they’re excited to meet you now, okay? So you’ve got to at least give them a chance,” Armin requested. Marco had nodded. 

“I will. I just don’t see it working out between us,” Marco said in his most adult manner. 

Armin hadn’t been able to help but wonder which TV show he had picked that line up from but all he could do was laugh and ruffle Marco’s hair. Armin shook his head and pulled his shirt on before heading out to go make himself some coffee and wake Marco. He heard Bean scrabbling towards him from the living room and reached down to greet him. 

“Good morning Bean, who’s a good boy, yes you are,” he said as the pup rolled over to give Armin access to his belly. 

“Where’s Marco? Are you going to help me get him up?” At the mention of the child’s name Bean rolled back over and ran full speed towards Marco’s door and pawed at it until Armin pushed it open. He then promptly leapt up onto Marco’s bed and began licking his face mercilessly. Marco didn’t stand a chance. 

“Beannnnn,” the boy whined, trying to push the dog away from his face. Finally Armin took pity on him and lifted Bean into his arms. 

“Good morning Marco,” he said. Marco sat up and wiped at his face with his arm. 

“Morning Armin,” he replied. 

“You have to get dressed and go brush your teeth, your dad will be back from the airport soon,” Armin reminded him.

“And my grandparents, too?” Marco asked. 

Armin nodded. Marco nodded to himself and there was a strange sort of determination behind him. Armin would’ve asked what he was thinking, but the blond had a feeling he knew exactly what it was. He was determined that these people not hate him. Even if it didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, for some reason it felt like it did. Armin went back to the kitchen and began pulling out ingredients while he waited. 

“Do you want to help me make breakfast, kiddo?” he asked when Marco walked in a few minutes later. 

“Are we making pancakes?” he asked. 

“Yep. And maybe we’ll put some blueberries in them?” Armin suggested. 

Marco nodded in agreement. That was one thing Armin was grateful for; Marco might not like his veggies, but he sure did love fruit. 

“Can I have a Mickey Mouse one?” he asked, going to get his step stool. He was tall for his age, but not quite tall enough to get at the counter and see what he was doing. 

“Sure, I’ll make one special for you.” Marco had learned quite a bit in the kitchen during Armin’s own learning curve, so he knew which measuring cups to use and how to read the recipe off the Bisquick box, which meant Armin was left standing back and watching him put the pancakes together. 

“Wow Marco, pretty soon you’ll be able to cook them yourself too,” Armin said proudly. Marco beamed at him. 

“Can I try today?” he asked brightly. Armin rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Well…I don’t know about today…” 

“Pleassssse?” Marco practically begged. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you help me flip a few of them, okay?” he suggested. 

That seemed to be good enough to stop Marco’s whining. It wasn’t that Armin was worried about him hurting himself – he was a bright child and it wasn’t like Armin was going to leave him unsupervised – it was just that…well…he guessed he was just anxious enough as it was and he didn’t want to add anything else to it if he could help it. So he turned on the griddle and had Marco move his stool to in front of the stove. Once the pan was hot Armin ladled out a few pancakes and set the bowl aside to wait. 

“So, when do we flip them?” Marco asked impatiently. Armin laughed. 

“Once they start bubbling on the top,” he explained. 

“If you flip them too early they won’t be golden brown yet.” When they were ready he had Marco hold the spatula and then wrapped his own hand around the boy’s. 

“Alright, let’s start with this one….and we slide the spatula under quickly, and then, flip it over just as fast,” he explained, guiding Marco through the motions. 

“Do you want to try one yourself?” Marco hesitated. 

“Um…maybe show me one more time?” he requested. 

Armin guided him through the next one as well and then Marco decided he wanted to try on his own. He managed to get the spatula under it alright, but when he flipped it over, it didn’t land quite where he expected it too, with half the uncooked pancake flopping off the side of the griddle. Marco turned to him, aghast. 

“I messed it up!” he cried. Armin smiled and took the spatula, using it to cut off the part that was no longer in the pan. 

“That’s alright. Everyone messes up at first. Remember some of the stuff I tried to cook when I first got here?” he reminded him. Marco made a face. 

“I’d never had crunchy rice before,” he confessed. Armin made a noise and rolled his eyes. 

“That’s because it’s not supposed to crunch. Now you watch these while I get a plate for the cooked ones,” he said. It was poetic, really, because right as Armin turned and moved across the kitchen to the cupboard with the plates, the door opened. 

“Oh my goodness! Marco, sweetheart, what are you doing?” a voice that Armin had never heard before asked. Armin spun around to see a woman about his height tugging Marco away from the stove. 

“Oh don’t worry, he was-” She turned and looked at him with piercing eyes. 

“And I suppose you must be the housekeeper,” she said coldly. 

“Um, yes ma’am, I’m Armin Arlert, it’s nice to meet you,” he said, offering his hand. She didn’t take it. 

“I don’t know what you were thinking, letting a child his age cook alone at the stove,” she said. 

She still hadn’t let go of Marco’s hand, but his efforts to discreetly tug away went unnoticed by her. Behind her Jean had just walked in, followed by another man who Armin could see resembled Marco. 

“Um, is there a problem?” Jean asked. 

“Of course there is! I walked in to your… _maid_ letting Marco use the stove unsupervised,” she snapped. 

“Now, now, Gail, let’s not get all riled up. Give the man a chance to explain himself,” the other man – her husband, Armin assumed – said. 

“Yes, please, before you start accusing complete strangers of neglect. And also, let go of Marco’s arm, I think you’re making him uncomfortable,” Jean said, none too kindly. Armin smiled and raised his voice a little to get everyone’s attention and make himself heard over Bean’s barking. 

“Okay everyone, I think maybe there’s a little bit of tension here since we’re all practically strangers, and I’m sure it was a long flight for you both. Give me just a second to get those pancakes off the stove before they burn and then we can all sit down and make introductions, okay?” he suggested. 

Jean didn’t really give them a chance to reply before shuffling them out of the kitchen and towards the living room, pausing just long enough for Armin to send him a grateful look before the blond went and scraped the pancakes off the pan – they hadn’t burned, but they were…well done – and washed his hands before walking into the living room. Marco was sitting beside Jean, about as far away from the newcomers as possible. 

“Sorry about that…I can probably salvage breakfast if you’re hungry. Marco and I haven’t eaten yet,” he told them.

“I’ll call room service Armin, don’t worry about it,” Jean assured him. The woman made an irritated noise but her husband put a hand on her knee and she seemed to soften. 

“Room service is fine, thank you Jean,” she said somewhat stiffly. 

Jean pulled out his phone and texted someone quickly – Armin had never noticed before, but somehow Jean was always able to order food without actually making a call. He briefly wondered if perhaps the person in charge of the kitchen had a phone just for getting texts from the boss-man. 

“It’ll be up soon,” he said. 

“Now then, let’s start with introductions. Marco, these are your grandparents, Gail and Robert Carolina,” Jean said. Marco peered around him in the most timid fashion Armin had ever seen. 

“Hello,” he said shyly. Gail smiled at him. 

“Oh, you’re just so precious. You look so much like Mina,” she said.

“Can I get a hug, please?” she asked. Marco hesitantly went to her and returned to Jean’s side as soon as it was over. Armin was sure he saw her wipe at her eyes, but she seemed perfectly fine a moment later. 

“Well he looks very healthy Jean, you must be doing a good job here,” Robert said. 

“If by healthy you mean seconds away from burning himself,” Gail snapped, turning to Armin. 

“I still don’t understand what he was doing at the stove by himself.” Armin sighed. 

“Well I wasn’t letting him cook. I was showing him how to flip pancakes. I had just stepped away to get a plate when you walked in. He was only there for a matter of seconds,” Armin explained as gently as he could. Gail didn’t seem pleased but at least she let it go. 

“Anyways, it’s really nice to meet you. I’m glad that Marco won’t have to be completely cut off from his other family anymore,” Armin said earnestly. Gail frowned. 

“You seem awfully invested in Marco’s wellbeing for a housekeeper. Tell me, what leads a man like yourself to a…well, what is your position here anyways?” she asked. Her question seemed innocent enough but there was a certain sort of emphasis on the word ‘man’ that made Armin bristle. 

“I think the term on the application was ‘girl Friday’,” Armin said coolly. Gail raised an eyebrow. 

“And the idea of working as another man’s maid appealed to you?” Jean stood before Armin could even compose himself enough to get angry over her words. 

“That’s enough. I agreed to let you come and visit your grandson. That’s what this visit is about. If you have a problem with how I parent, or the people I employ, you can take that up with me from your own house,” he all but yelled.

“Now, if you want to continue to be welcome here, you will not say another disrespectful word about Armin or his choices or the way he raises Marco, am I clear?” Jean’s voice was intense and his eyes were steely, and Armin couldn’t tell if he was more angry at what had been insinuated about him or pleased about the fact that Jean hadn’t even hesitated before jumping to his defense. But Jean’s words apparently weren’t enough to calm the situation. 

“The way _he_ raises Marco? So you’ve hired a complete stranger to come in and raise our grandson?” Gail demanded. 

“A complete stranger? Armin is closer to being Marco’s family than you are. Where were you when Mina died? You didn’t give a damn about him then, what’s so different now?” Jean yelled.

Armin could see that Marco was in distress over all of this. He was gripping the edges of his shirt and looking from his father to his grandmother, and if Armin wasn’t mistaken he looked as if he might cry.

“How _dare_ you accuse me of not caring! You have no room to talk _Mr. Kirchstein_ ,” she sneered, “I’ve read about you, I know how often you go out, living it up like a bachelor without a care in the world, while our grandson stays home with another _man_ raising him.” Armin had scooped Marco up in his arms at this point, but ironically, no one was paying them any attention. 

“Actually, Jean spends a lot of time at home with Marco. He’s home by six every night to sit down and have dinner with him and we have board game night once a week,” he said, more calmly than he might have thought possible. 

“And I’m not paying Armin to raise Marco for me. He’s raising Marco _with_ me,” Jean said, moving closer to Armin to stroke Marco’s hair and put his hand on the small of Armin’s back. 

“He…what?” Gail had clearly lost her thunder, being taken aback by the gesture and Jean’s words. 

“Armin is my boyfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooo sorry that I didn't get this put up yesterday, but it was mother's day and my mom was here and I spent the day with her, so hopefully all of you understand. Anyways, I hope you liked this most recent chapter, sorry that it ended on a bit of a cliffhanger, but I'll have the next one done on time next week!


	19. Chapter 19

“I’m sorry, he’s… _what_?” Gail asked. Beside her Robert – the only one still sitting at this point – cleared his throat. 

“Gail…you know maybe we’d better go for now. I don’t think this is how you want your grandson to see you,” he said. 

“No, no, I’m sorry, I’m not going anywhere. How can I possibly leave him here to be raised by a…a… _homosexual_?” Her voice had dropped a few levels and it sounded as if she were so offended by the idea that she had a hard time saying the word. If it weren’t for the rock that someone had apparently just stuffed down Armin’s throat and dropped into his stomach, Armin might’ve found it amusing. Robert made a frustrated noise. 

“Gail, please, we’ll come back later and we can all talk about this like adults,” he said firmly. Armin was more than a little surprised at how rational he was being.

“No, Robert, I will _not_ -” 

“Gail! You’re being unreasonable. This is exactly why we never got a chance to speak to Mina again before she died!” Robert had stood now and if Armin was uncomfortable before, it was nothing to how he felt now, seeing a married couple whom he had never met hash out their marital problems right in front of him. 

“Alright, well we’ve seen quite enough of this circus show for one morning,” Jean interrupted before things could get any worse. 

“Now, I’m going to ask you to leave, and if you think there’s a time where you can come back and be civil to me and my family, then you let me know and I’ll think about letting you.” His voice was firm and authoritative and it was one of those moments where Armin realized _exactly_ how he had gotten as far in life as he had. Gail turned to look at him, scandalized.

“Excuse me? What makes you think you can just-” 

“Well, if you’re really about to ask what makes me think I can throw you out, then for starters, it’s my house. Not to mention, you have no right to see Marco without my permission,” Jean said and Armin was more in love with him for keeping his compusre. Especially because while there may have been a lot he wanted to say, he wasn’t Marco’s father, and he wasn’t the one making the decisions, but at least he and Jean were on the same page. Besides, he got the feeling Gail would’ve ignored him anyways. Gail’s eyes had narrowed, but before she could open her mouth again, Robert put his hand on her arm. 

“That’s enough. We’re going to leave now and take some time to cool off, understand?” he said quietly. 

Armin wasn’t going to guess at the dynamics of their relationship; it was enough that Robert’s words seemed to sink in. Jean ushered them towards the door and Armin was sure he watched them go with satisfaction. But their departure left Marco and Armin alone in the living room, and though Marco had been surprisingly quiet and still during the altercation, Armin could feel damp patches on the shoulder of his shirt. 

“Hey there kiddo, you doing okay?” Armin asked, reaching up to stroke his hair while he moved to go sit on the couch. 

“Are they really gonna come back? She seemed really scary and mean,” Marco said quietly as Armin shifted so he could sit on his leg. 

“I don’t know Marco…I don’t think your dad is going to let them if they can’t be nicer,” Armin explained. Even if he didn’t believe it, it was important that Marco feel reassured at the moment. 

“Why was she so mad when dad told them you were boyfriends?” the boy asked, wiping at his eyes. 

“Because she’s a bigot,” Jean said angrily as he came back in. Marco frowned and turned back to Armin. 

“What’s a bigot?” Armin shot Jean a glare and then looked back to the child on his lap. 

“It’s a word for someone who isn’t very accepting of others. Some people don’t like people like me,” he said. Marco cocked his head. 

“Nannies?” he asked wiping at his nose with his sleeve. Armin laughed. 

“No, boys who like other boys, or girls who like other girls,” he clarified. Marco frowned. 

“But that’s stupid,” he complained. 

“Damn right it is,” Jean muttered, sinking onto the sofa. Armin shot him another look. 

“What? It is. There’s no reason for them to come in here and treat you like that. What do they think, you can’t raise a kid just because you’re a guy? You do a great job with Marco! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come along,” Jean ranted. “And that’s another thing! Why didn’t you say anything? You’re part of this family too, you could’ve told them to fuck off and I probably would’ve given you a raise.” 

Marco stared at him and then whispered to Armin, “Dad said a bad word.” 

“Yes, I heard. I think your dad needs to remember there are _small ears_ around,” Armin said. Jean gave him a look that wasn’t quite a glare but that was still annoyed. 

“Marco, why don’t you go take Bean out onto the patio and make sure he does his business? He hasn’t been out yet today and we can finish talking about this later,” Armin instructed. Marco nodded. 

“Okay. Come on Bean! Let’s go outside!” he called and he and the pup ran towards the sliding door. Armin slid closer to Jean, putting his hand on his knee. 

“Hey, come on,” he said, stroking Jean’s leg gently. 

“It’s gonna be fine, Jean. They can’t-” 

“No it’s not Armin. Look what just happened, they took one look at me, at us, and immediately decided that Marco was in some sort of danger!” Jean said. Armin smiled and shook his head. 

“No, I think it’s just me they’re afraid of. I’m the homosexual letting a six year old cook pancakes by himself, remember?” he said lightly. Jean looked at him.

“I’m not kidding Armin. Letting them come here was a mistake,” he sighed. 

“Maybe it was. Or maybe they’ll pull their heads out of their asses and realize that you’re doing the best you can,” Armin said gently. 

“That’s not what I’m looking for. I know I’m doing the best I can. I don’t give a shit if they recognize that or not. It’s…it’s you I’m worried about,” Jean admitted. Armin frowned. 

“Me?” he asked, thoroughly confused. 

“I can handle them saying I’m a shitty parent, because they’re basically right; I hired someone to raise Marco for me because I didn’t want to or didn’t think I could do it, or whatever bullshit reason I had at the time. But…hearing the way she talked down to you, the way she looked at you, without an inkling of what you do for him and for me and just…it pisses me off. If they come back and that bitch says one more bad thing about you, I mean it Armin, I’ll lose it.” 

Armin stared at him. 

“What? Stop looking at me like that,” Jean groused. 

“I just…I didn’t expect you to be so protective of me,” he said, trying to laugh and lighten the mood. “I suppose you’re the only one who’s allowed to talk shit about me then, huh?”

Jean rolled his eyes and then leaned back against the couch, closing them. 

“I don’t talk shit about you, I tease you. That’s different, that’s out of love, not contempt,” Jean said, and it was said so casually and so simply that Armin was sure he hadn’t realized he’d said it, but it didn’t change the reaction it caused. He swallowed, searching for his voice. 

“Out of love?” he asked quietly. Jean opened an eye and looked over at him. Armin was sure Jean’s cheeks were red, but then again, so were his. 

“S’what I said, isn’t it?” he replied. 

“Yeah I know but maybe you were teasing me,” Armin said quietly. He wasn’t sure why he was pressing it; maybe he needed Jean to say it again, just to reassure him. Jean sat up and looked him in the eyes. 

“No teasing, no jokes, I’m in love with you,” Jean said. 

Armin’s reaction at hearing those words the second time was no different from the first; his heart pounding but not in an unpleasant way, a wave of pure happiness rolling through him and the feeling deep in his chest that he felt the same way. 

“Now would be a good time to say something, you know,” Jean said with something that sounded suspiciously close to a nervous laugh. Instead Armin shifted, drawing himself up on his knees and moving to sit across Jean’s lap. He cupped Jean’s face in his hand and leaned towards him, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. 

“I love you too,” he murmured. Jean’s smile was infectious and Armin leaned forward to feel Jean’s arms wrap around him in a tight hug. 

“Armin? Why are you on dad’s lap?” Marco’s voice came from the other side of the living room and Armin immediately tried to pull away, embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising position. Jean held him in place. 

“Because he’s comfortable here,” Jean answered. 

“Oh. Okay,” Marco said, and it hit Armin like a freight train; how easily children accepted things, how easy it was to explain love to a child, and how tolerant they were without having to be argued with or debated with. Was it really better for Marco to have Gail and Robert in his life, if they were so full of hatred and prejudice? He was sure if he asked Jean not to invite them back, the other man would do it in a heartbeat. But that wasn’t really his call to make, was it? It occurred to him that he was much too close to the situation to really know what was best for Marco.

“You still with me?” Jean asked quietly in his ear.

Armin shrugged against him. 

“I’m not going to let them change anything for us,” Jean said, and there was such finality and sureness in his voice that there was no room for Armin to doubt him. Except he did. 

“Now Marco, come sit up here, we’re going to have a family meeting,” Jean instructed. Armin pulled away as Marco climbed up onto the sofa. 

“No, you’re good there,” Jean said as Armin moved to get off of him. Armin hit him playfully in the arm. 

“I’m not going to sit on your lap while we’re having an adult conversation,” he chided, though he couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’m not an adult,” Marco piped up. 

“I know that kiddo, but I’m still going to sit on my own.” 

“Okay.”

Jean shushed them both and Marco stuck his tongue out at him. 

“Now then, first things first; tomorrow is Marco’s seventh birthday so-” 

“Can we go out for dinner for it?” Marco interrupted. Jean looked at him and he instantly slapped a hand over his mouth. 

“Sorry dad,” he said, but it was muffled by his fingers. 

“Now, as I was saying, tomorrow is Marco’s birthday, so I figured we could go out for dinner, anywhere you want,” Jean said. Marco threw his hands up in the air and cheered.

“ _But_ -” 

“Aww, does there have to be a but?” Marco whined. Armin could help but laugh. 

“Yes there has to be a but, you monkey, now let me finish,” Jean scolded, but there was nothing but amusement behind it. 

“ _But_ we have to decide whether we want to invite your…invite _them_.” Though Jean didn’t clarify, it was clear to everyone who he was talking about. 

“I say no!” Marco said almost immediately.“I don’t want her to yell at you or Armin anymore.” 

Armin was sure Jean would agree with him, but instead the brunet turned to him. 

“Armin, what do you think?” Armin considered for a moment. 

“Well…if they can be civil…I guess there’s no reason not to let them come. They _did_ come all this way to get to know Marco,” he reminded them. 

“But Arminnnn they made you sad. I don’t like that,” Marco protested. 

“The kid’s got a point, Armin,” Jean chimed in.

“I’m quite aware that they were….rude, to say the least. But this is a big adjustment for everyone, maybe they just need a chance to get used to it,” Armin said. Jean looked at him for a long moment. 

“You are a much better person than I am,” he finally admitted. Armin laughed.

“I don’t know about that. I just…don’t think it’s fair to write them off so soon,” he said. 

“My point exactly,” Jean muttered. 

“Anyways, Marco, do you think you can handle having them there?” Jean asked. Marco gave a long suffering sigh. 

“Fiiiiiiiiine,” he finally said.

Armin smiled at him. He might have done it reluctantly, but Armin had a feeling that Marco was going to grow up to be a very patient person. Armin wondered how much of a role he’d play in that… Jean’s next words broke him out of his reverie. 

“Next we have to talk about Marco’s birthday party this weekend. Armin, did you want to make a cake or should I order one?” 

Armin looked at Marco. 

“Do you want to help me make a cake? It can be whatever kind you like,” he offered. Marco considered for a moment. 

“Can I lick the spoons?” Armin laughed. 

“Yeah, sure you can.” 

“Okay! Let’s do that. I like cooking with you,” Marco said, patting Armin’s knee. Armin laughed and ruffled his hair in return. 

“Alright, Marco, did you decide who you wanted to invite?” Marco nodded. 

“He gave me the list and I sent the invites out last Friday,” Armin informed him. 

“Alright, it sounds like we’re all set then, right?” Jean asked. Armin and Marco nodded. 

“Good. Good talk guys,” Jean said, giving them both kisses on the cheek before getting up. 

“Oh yeah, Armin? Can we invite your friends too?” Marco asked. Armin looked at him. 

“Eren and Mikasa?” he asked. Marco nodded.

“They were nice, and you were really happy when they came to visit, so they should come too,” the boy decided. 

Armin couldn’t explain the sudden feeling in his chest, but he suddenly felt overwhelmed. Jean had told him he loved him, Marco paid enough attention to realize how happy it made him to see his friends. It really was like they were a family, a real one, the kind Armin hadn’t had since before his grandparents died and he and Eren and Mikasa had all been children. 

“Armin? Did I say something bad?” Marco asked, seeing the sudden distress that Armin was apparently in.

“No Marco, I think you said something that made him happy again,” Jean said softly, moving back to the couch to sit beside him and put an arm around his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I’m just…I never expected…” 

“To get a family out of a classified ad?” Jean supplied. 

Armin shook his head, wiping at his eyes before any actual tears could fall. He felt sort of pathetic, crying again, but he just couldn’t help it. Jean had kept calling them his family and Armin had even been thinking it for some time, but for some reason, it hadn’t really clicked until then; Jean meant it when he said it. It wasn’t for Robert or Gail’s benefit, or out of obligation or even just casually tossing it out there because it was the easiest thing to refer to them as. He said it because he meant it, because Marco was more than just some temporary addition; he was his son. And Armin was more than just the hired help; he was Jean’s lover, and someone that Jean saw as a partner, a parental figure for Marco and someone to spend his time – and maybe even life – with. In the face of a realization like that, so huge and earth-shattering, how could he not tear up a little? 

“Well don’t cry Armin! Dad and I don’t like it when you cry,” Marco said, patting his cheek gently.

“I know, I’m not crying, just teared up a little there,” Armin said, giving a slightly watery smile. 

“Oh. Well…okay then.” There was quiet for a few moments and then something that sounded strangely like a stomach rumbling. Marco looked down at his tummy and then up at Jean. 

“Dad, when’s the food getting here?” he asked. Jean slapped himself on the forehead.

“Aw crap. I cancelled it after they left so the kitchen wouldn’t have to go through all the trouble if it was just the three of us,” Jean told them. 

“Well, I can make something,” Armin said, moving to stand. 

“Actually Armin, how about you take a bit and relax, Marco and I can make something,” Jean said, pushing him back onto the couch. 

“What? No, you don’t have to do that! Really I just-”

“No! You sit! You always cook for us, let me and dad cook for you,” Marco demanded, pointing at Armin. The blond raised his hands in surrender. 

“Alright, alright, jeez. Just…let me know if you need anything,” he said. 

He would have been more than willing to cook but…it sure was nice to be the one getting spoiled this time, especially when Marco came trotting in a few minutes later with a steaming cup of coffee – his unfinished cup from earlier had been long since forgotten in the kitchen. Despite the craziness from earlier, Armin had to admit it was one of the most pleasant late mornings he’d had in a long time; he got to sit back and finish reading the book he’d been working on while he sipped his coffee and listened to Jean and Marco tinkering in the kitchen. 

He was sure there’d be a decent sized mess for him to clean up later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he could bring himself to be was happy. He knew the drama wasn’t over, and that Gail and Robert would be back and it would make things hard for all of them but for now? Armin was content to just lay there and smile to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, a nice mostly sappy conclusion to last week's cliffhanger. Unfortunately, my lips are sealed about where things are going to go from here, so you'll just have to check in next week to find out! Thanks for reading my fic and keeping up with me!
> 
> P.S., if you haven't checked it out already, I participated in the Jearmin Reverse big bang event this year, and you can check out the fic I wrote and the art that goes with it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3897064)!


	20. Chapter 20

True to his word – and despite his objections – Jean called Gail and Robert’s room the next afternoon to let them know they would be going out to dinner for Marco’s birthday and, provided it didn’t turn into a repeat of their first meeting, the two were welcome to join them. Which of course wasn’t entirely true, but for appearances sake, Jean had at least said it – or so he told Armin. The blond couldn’t say for sure since Jean had made the call from his office. 

“Do you want to go to the pizza place again or somewhere different?” Armin asked Marco as they searched for cake recipes together. Marco thought for a moment. 

“I want to go somewhere with pasta,” he decided. 

“Pasta? How about Italian then? Then you could have just about any kind of pasta you can think of,” Armin suggested. Marco looked at him with a wide grin. 

“Even peanut butter and jelly pasta?” he asked. Armin did his best not to make a face. 

“No, maybe not peanut butter and jelly pasta,” he professed. Marco didn’t seem too upset by this fact, giving Armin the impression that the question had been purely for his benefit. 

“Oh, oh! How about that one?” Marco asked, pointing at a cake with peanut butter cups decorating the top. 

“A peanut butter cake?” Armin asked. Marco nodded and then frowned. 

“But maybe not. Bailey is allergic to peanuts,” he said, which Armin knew from the time Bailey’s mother had pulled him aside and told him that Bailey like to sit with Marco at lunch but couldn’t if Marco packed PB & J’s for lunch. 

“That’s good of you to remember,” Armin praised him and continued scrolling down the page. Eventually they decided on a chocolate cake with raspberry frosting – an interesting choice for a six-going-on-seven year old, but Armin wasn’t going to complain. 

“We’ll go get the ingredients tomorrow, but right now I’m going to call your dad and let him know where you want to go okay kiddo?” Armin said. 

Marco nodded and hopped off the couch to go let Bean out since the pup was scratching at the sliding door leading out to the patio. Armin really wasn’t the biggest fan of calling Jean when the man was sitting in an office just a few floors below them, but he knew he couldn’t leave Marco alone; especially not with Gail and Robert here. He would’ve texted him instead, but the last time he had done that Jean was too busy and ended up having to call him anyways and talk to him on speaker phone while he typed away in the background. 

“Oh hey,” Jean said, picking up on the second ring. 

“I was just going to call you. Did Marco decide where he wants to go?” 

“Yeah, he wanted pasta so I suggested Italian,” Armin told him. 

“Think they can stomach Olive Garden?” Jean asked, and Armin really wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not. He told him so and Jean laughed quietly. 

“No, not particularly. It’s Marco’s birthday, I don’t want to make him get all dressed up and be uncomfortable through it,” Jean said. 

Armin smiled to himself, unable to help but think about how much Jean had grown. Rather than being worried about impressing Robert and Gail or showing off his money, he wanted to go somewhere that Marco would enjoy. 

“I do like their breadsticks,” Armin said, rather than mentioning anything that had just run through his mind. 

“Alright, it’s settled. I’ll make a reservation for....how does six-thirty sound?” Armin nodded to himself. 

“That’s fine. Are we all riding together or did they get a rental car or something?” he asked. 

“They’ll have to come with us, unfortunately. Since we’re staying in the same building they didn’t much see the need for a car of their own.” Armin couldn’t deny the logic behind that, even if it now meant they would all have to squeeze together in the back of Jean’s BMW.

“Alright. You’ll um…you’ll let them know?” Armin asked. 

He felt like a coward and he expected Jean to at least tease him about it a little, but he didn’t. In fact, when he assured Armin he’d take care of it, there wasn’t the slightest trace of humor in his voice. Armin made a vow to give him an extra tight hug when he came home that evening. Fortunately Armin didn’t have much reason to worry about being bored or sitting around letting his nerves get to him while he waited for Jean to get home; Marco was particularly reluctant to get in the bathtub and get ready so Armin spent the better part of the afternoon chasing him around the living room with Bean barking behind them. Armin had just gotten Marco into outfit for the night when Jean came home.

“You look a little frazzled,” the brunet remarked as Armin trudged into the kitchen. 

“Shut up and give me a hug. Your son has spent the entire afternoon making me play some twisted form of tag that I had to win in order to make him shower,” the blond complained into the shoulder of Jean’s suit jacket. 

“Aww, poor baby,” Jean said, patting his head. Armin pulled back and glared at him but Jean just laughed. 

“You’re so cute though; your hair is all over the place,” Jean confessed, as if it excused him. 

“Some help you are. You’re supposed to come home and tell me I look great and reprimand Marco for making my life hard,” he complained, crossing his arms. 

“I can go do that if you want,” Jean offered, but Armin could still hear the smile in his voice. 

“No. I’m going to go shower,” he said and turned to walk away. Jean caught him by the back of this shirt and pulled him back against him.

“I could come with you,” Jean murmured in his ear, and boy, wasn’t that tempting? Armin let out a disappointed sigh. 

“No…we don’t have time. It’s already after five-thirty and we have to leave in forty-five minutes,” he replied and then bit his lip. 

“I’ll take a rain check on that though,” he decided, twisting around to kiss Jean quickly before hurrying off to take one of the fastest showers of his life. 

Perhaps he didn’t have to rush quite so much, but he’d be damned if there was a single hair out of place when Gail and Robert arrived. He knew it was stupid to care even in the slightest what they thought, but that didn’t change the fact that he unfortunately did. In the end, it really didn’t help anything though. The car ride was silent and awkward to say the least; even Marco who usually hardly stopped talking from the back seat was quiet. It occurred to Armin how unfair it was. Even though Jean had picked a restaurant Marco liked, his birthday was still going to border on miserable with his grandparents here… If either one of them thought Jean’s choice of restaurant lacking though they thankfully didn’t say anything.

Despite the awkwardness of the entire situation, they managed to make polite conversation for the most part, and Armin actually thought they’d get through the evening okay, except for one tiny detail. It didn’t matter really, and at first he wasn’t bothered by it at all; why should he be? But Gail had this way of looking at him when he spoke that made him feel like a middle schooler; ignorant, ugly, and self-conscious. 

As dinner progressed, Armin found himself saying less and less, just to avoid drawing her attention. Even when Jean brought up books and the fact that Armin wanted to be a writer, he said as little as possible before returned to his food, eating it in the smallest, slowest bites he could manage without drawing Jean’s attention, just so he could keep his plate long enough to continue using it as a distraction. But Jean didn’t seem to notice, and Armin was glad for that, because he and Marco were able to make some real conversation with them. In fact, Gail seemed truly interested in anything and everything Marco had to say, and Armin had to admit that’s what he had been hoping for. 

So with their relationship slowly forming, Armin still retained the hope that he would make it through the night without coming apart at the seams. Until Jean reached over to take his hand. His boyfriend was engaged with a mostly friendly conversation with Robert about his business, so he wasn’t paying any attention to Gail. Armin was though, and when she spotted Jean’s hand on his, and the way Jean was absentmindedly stroking his thumb across the back of it, the look in her eyes when they met Armin’s was probably enough to make a small child cry. Without thinking, Armin tugged his hand away and stood up. 

“Armin? You okay?” Jean asked. His voice was calm, but Armin was sure there was concern in his eyes. He couldn’t say for sure though, because he couldn’t bring himself to meet them. 

“Yeah I’m fine. Just have to use the restroom,” he said and hurried away. To be fair, he hadn’t been completely dishonest; he did walk into the bathroom at least. 

He stood in front of the mirror and took a few deep breaths. He had debated splashing some cool water on his face because he felt strangely overheated – probably the product of being subjected to such intense embarrassment – but when he realized there were only air dryers, he decided against it. He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes for a few seconds, frowning when he heard the door open and close behind him. He hoped whoever it was would just do their business and leave. The blond jumped when Jean cleared his throat. 

“So you’re fine, huh?” the man mused. Armin wished he wouldn’t tease just then, but the feeling of Jean’s arm around him was a welcome one.

“I know you were uncomfortable. I’ve never seen you eat that slowly before, or have so little to say about your writing,” he said. Armin frowned. Had he been that obvious? 

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Jean asked. Armin didn’t know what to say at first. Because it was, of course it was, he just didn’t know why.

“She hates me,” he finally said. 

“She hates me to,” Jean reminded him. 

“I know but…she doesn’t have the power to undo you like she does me,” he muttered, feeling pathetic. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know…It’s like…she looks at me and…I can’t explain it, and it would sound stupid even if I could,” he sighed. 

“Try anyways,” Jean suggested. Armin huffed out a breath. 

“It’s…she doesn’t even need to say anything. She just _looks_ at me and I feel worthless, like I don’t even deserve the air I’m breathing,” he said.

Jean looked at him, clearly disconcerted. 

“I told you it sounds stupid! I’m a grown man for crying out loud! I shouldn’t-” Jean leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and the tenderness of the gesture caught him very much of guard.

“You know it doesn’t matter, right? I won’t pretend to understand how you’re feeling, but at the end of the day she doesn’t matter. Even if she hates both our guts, we’re still going to go home as a family at the end of this and there’s nothing she can do about that,” Jean assured him. 

Armin nodded reluctantly and with a little more coaxing on Jean’s part, returned to the table. Armin spent the rest of the night practically forcing himself not to look at Gail, which was difficult because now that he had decided on this she seemed to be purposely trying to force him to; after all, he couldn’t stare down at his plate when she was talking to him. 

But true to Jean’s word, they parted ways in the lobby and Jean, Armin and Marco all went up to the penthouse together. The moment they walked in the door Armin felt like some sort of huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, so much so that he pulled Jean towards him and half hugged, half sagged against him for a long moment. Jean simply stood there and stroked his hair. It became apparent to Armin in that moment that though he and Jean had only been dating for a few weeks now, he was easily the most supportive lover he’d ever had, and he had almost missed out on it because of his stupid pride and his stupid, unjustified misconceptions. He squeezed Jean a little harder. 

“What is it?” Jean asked. Armin shook his head against him. 

“It’s nothing. I just love you,” he murmured. If Jean were a cat Armin was sure he would’ve let out a very contented purr at those words. 

“I love you too,” he replied, and Armin knew he meant it. 

“Now let’s go change,” Jean said and tugged him down the hallway, where they passed Marco who had already changed into his pajamas and was heading towards the living room. 

“Think we should give him his present tonight?” Jean asked, just loud enough for Marco to hear. The boy stopped and turned with a huge grin on his face. 

“Presents, presents, presents!” he chanted. Armin couldn’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, okay, we’ll give him the ones from us tonight,” he agreed. Marco cheered and ran towards the living room. 

“But we’ll start with the clothes first, right?” Armin asked once Marco was out of earshot. Jean snorted. 

“Wow that’s cold,” he said. Armin just laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay guys, I forgot to tell you all that I wouldn't be updating last week, but here's today's chapter right on time! Hopefully you all enjoy it!


	21. Chapter 21

The moment Jean walked in the door the next day Armin knew something was wrong. Not just _wrong_ , but hugely, earth-shatteringly awry. Jean didn’t say or do anything differently; he came in the door, took off his shoes and greeted Armin with a quick kiss, but Armin just knew. Perhaps it was his eyes; there was a look in them that Armin hadn’t seen before. He looked….tired, the way people look when the world just won’t stop shitting on them and everything is going to hell. 

“What is it?” he asked quietly. Jean rubbed the back of his neck. 

“They’ve decided to go back early,” Jean said. Armin frowned. 

“But that’s…not a bad thing right?” he asked, confused. 

“They talked to a lawyer. They want custody of Marco.” 

Armin’s world shattered, falling into a million pieces at his feet. He gaped at Jean, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Armin knew Robert and Gail – or perhaps Gail more specifically – wasn’t a fan of him – or Jean for that matter – but what could’ve prompted this? Suddenly Armin noticed that Jean wasn’t quite looking at him.

“There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?” he demanded. 

“It’s nothing. Not even worth mentioning,” Jean assured him, still looking down at Armin’s bare feet. Armin couldn’t help it; he would regret it later but just then he was hurt and furious and scared and Jean wasn’t helping. Armin shoved him. 

“What the hell?” Jean snapped, stumbling a few steps back. 

“Don’t you dare do that Jean! This is about me too and I have a right to know! You tell me right now, what are you hiding?” Armin shouted at him. 

For a moment Jean looked torn between stunned and just plain angry and Armin was sure this was going to turn into a full blown screaming match. But then Jean did the last thing he expected; he reached forward pulling Armin against him in a crushing hug. Even though part of Armin wanted to fight it, he didn’t.

“Please tell me,” he murmured quietly against Jean’s chest. He felt the other man sigh. 

“Apparently if I ‘terminate your employment’ they’ll settle for visitation,” he said. Armin pushed away from him.

“What?” 

There was a painful squeezing in his chest, as if maybe his heart were actually being torn to pieces. 

“They…me? This is about me?” he choked out.

“They’re doing their damndest to make it that way,” Jean said. He reached out for Armin to come back to him but the blond didn’t move. 

“So…so now what?” he asked, half dreading the answer. 

“We’ll see them in court I guess,” Jean said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Armin couldn’t breathe. 

“But…what about Marco?” he asked, his voice breaking. “I mean, am I worth that much to you that you’d drag him through all that?” 

Jean looked appalled.

“Are you really asking me that right now?” he asked. 

“Well, yes! I mean, are you really going to choose me over your own son?” 

“Armin, are you even listening to yourself? This isn’t about choosing you over him or him over you or whatever, this is me not letting a couple of assholes break up my family,” Jean replied in that forced calm voice he used sometimes. 

Armin didn’t say anything, but he was far from conceding. How could Jean even consider putting Marco through a custody battle? Did he want to boy to lose his father too? Armin would be damned if he let that happen. But what could he do? Short of leaving them… The thought of that made Armin shiver but maybe…Armin shook his head. He couldn’t do that to them. Could he? Perhaps he had been wrong about Gail and Robert but…he wasn’t wrong this time, he was sure of it. 

It would hurt. 

It would hurt a lot, and Armin wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking that he was the only one who would be hurt. Of course it would hurt Jean and it would certainly hurt Marco but…they could get over it, because they’d have each other. Someone else could come along and fill the void he left behind, but he didn’t even want to risk the thought of Jean losing Marco. They had come so far and Jean had grown up so much. No, Armin had to do this; there was no way around it. It was a shame he’d have to miss Marco’s birthday party. He had been looking forward to making that cake with the boy who could have been his son. 

Now Armin sat in Eren’s living room doing what could only be described as moping. It had been strangely easy to do; he had made a point of sleeping in the guest room last night to prove to Jean just how angry he was, and while Jean and Marco slept he silently packed as much as he could fit into a suitcase – the rest would have to wait, but perhaps he could get Eren to do it, since he wouldn’t be able to face Jean basically ever again. He wrote a note effectively breaking up with Jean because ‘he couldn’t be with someone who would sacrifice a child’s happiness to be so selfish’ – a terrible, hurtful thing to say but it was the only thing Armin could think of that would make Jean angry enough not to come after him – and on his way out after dropping Marco off at school he stopped at Gail and Robert’s room. The conversation had been…unpleasant, but at least they understood that Armin was removing himself from the equation for Marco’s best interest. Gail had even gone so far as to praise him for his intelligence. 

So now here he was, sitting at Eren and Mikasa’s after listening to Eren lecture his ear off about how this was stupid even for him and wondering why he had to be so damn noble and why he couldn’t have just trusted Jean. But how would it look now if he went crawling back? Armin wasn’t a prideful man – or at least he had never considered himself one – but even the little bit he did have wouldn’t allow him to go that far. It was better off this – the doorbell rang. Armin froze. It rang again, and again, and then there was knocking. Armin knew only two people in the world who could be so insistent and the other one was going to answer the door. Armin bolted, nearly tripping over a blanket in his rush to get out of the living room and out of sight. 

“Is he here?” he heard Jean ask. He didn’t hear Eren’s reply, but that probably had more to do with sound of his heart thudding in his chest than anything else.

There was a strange beat of silence and then Eren saying loudly, “No, he’s not.” 

“Let me in Eren, I know he doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” Jean demanded. 

“Go to hell,” Eren said, in typical Eren fashion. Armin heard and thud and somehow figured it was Jean slamming a fist against the door frame. 

“Dammit Eren, I’m serious!” 

“So am I. Now get out of here before I-” 

“Before you what? Call the cops?” 

“Uh, yeah, duh.” 

Jean laughed derisively and Armin could hear the hurt in it and he hated it. 

“As if there’s anything they can charge me with that I can’t buy my way out of,” he said bitterly and somehow that struck Armin as a very un-Jean-like thing for him to say. “Now I know he’s here. Let me in so I can talk to him.” 

For a terrifying moment Armin thought Eren would yield, but his friend stood his ground. 

“He doesn’t want to see you dumbass. He dumped you, wasn’t that clear enough?” 

“Then let him tell me that. You hear me you idiot?! I want you to come out here and tell me why you did it! Tell me to my face this isn’t some stupid self-sacrifice play because you think me and Marco will be better off!” Armin couldn’t stand it any longer. He moved from around the corner so Jean could see him. 

“And so what if it was?” he shouted back. “They will _take him away_ Jean, don’t you get that?” 

Eren was standing awkwardly between them now and if Armin had been paying more attention he might have noticed that despite Eren and Jean’s argument, Jean was standing decidedly in the house. But he wasn’t. 

“I mean, I know you care about me Jean but I am not worth losing your son over!” 

Jean was standing in front of him in a flash and before Armin knew what was happening Jean had lifted him bodily from the floor and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Hey! Jean! Put me down! What the hell are you doing?” the blond demanded, smacking his hand on Jean’s back. 

“Taking you home,” Jean growled. He nodded at Eren as they left and for a brief moment it occurred to Armin that Eren had been in on this. 

“You traitor!” he yelled as Jean marched him out to the car. 

Jean set him down but blocked him in between himself and the open car door so that Armin had no choice but to get in. It occurred to him to jump out and make a break for it when Jean walked around to the other side but he didn’t have it in him. Jean was furiously silent as he started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Armin fidgeted quietly in the seat, waiting for Jean to turn his anger on him. Finally the brunet spoke. 

“This isn’t a fucking movie or a book Armin. What if I’d believed your stupid little note? How would I have explained it to Marco? Do you honestly believe we’d be better off?” 

“Well at least he’d still have you! And he wouldn’t have to go through all the trauma of a custody battle!” Armin countered. Jean actually laughed but it was scornful and unpleasant.

“He’d still have _me_? Armin, having me wouldn’t matter in the slightest without having you! _You_ were the one who made sure we had a relationship! _You_ were the one who made us a family. Do you really think we’d just be okay if you left?” Armin swallowed, feeling at a loss for words. 

“And as far as a custody battle, yeah, they’ve got money and time, but no judge is going to look at us, look at you, and say Marco is better off with them,” Jean said. 

There was a moment of silence and Armin thought he was finished, but he must have been trying to reign in his emotions because when he spoke again his voice was much gentler, but in a way that sounded as though he was excerting a great effort to make it so. 

“You told me, when all of this first came up, that if we were going to do this serious relationship thing then I couldn’t shoulder everything myself. You don’t get to do it either, understand?” 

“Jean, I-” 

“No, I’m serious Armin. I mean what if this hadn’t all worked out the way you wanted it to?” Armin gaped at him. 

“That way I _wanted it to_? What the hell makes you think any of this is going the way I wanted it? You just kidnapped me from my friend’s house!”

“I didn’t kidnap you, that sound terrible. And yes, I do. You are too smart for me to believe that you seriously thought I would just let you leave like that and not come after you.” 

“I broke up with you! Excuse me for thinking that would be enough to make it clear I didn’t want you running after me!” Armin said, exasperated. 

“You broke up with me through a note, and a poorly written one at that! That barely counts!” 

“Okay! Yes, okay? I broke up with you through a note, because I couldn’t stand in front of you and tell you that I didn’t love you and that I was leaving and make you believe it!” Armin said, his voice cracking embarrassingly. 

“And what made you think I’d believe it from a note?” Jean asked. 

“I don’t know! I panicked! I just…I couldn’t handle the thought of being the reason for Marco losing his dad too,” he mumbled, feeling more like an idiot and a chastised child than ever. 

“You’re not going to be Armin, because Marco isn’t going anywhere, and neither are you,” Jean said. 

Armin didn’t know what to say. He was ashamed and embarrassed and had probably messed things up forever, because how could Jean ever trust him now if he ran away every time things got hard? He was as much a coward as ever. 

“Stop it,” Jean said sharply. 

“Stop what?” 

“Beating yourself up. I know you. Just…stop okay?” And there was a pleading to his voice that caused that same sharpness in his heart.

“I’ll try. I just…I know I fucked up. Is Marco mad at me?” he asked. Jean shook his head.

“Marco doesn’t know. I wasn’t going to tell him unless I couldn’t get you back,” he admitted. 

“You know you didn’t…none of this changed anything. I still love you. I just wanted to do what’s best for everyone,” Armin said, finally mustering the courage to reach out and take Jean’s hand. To his relief Jean didn’t shrug him off, just turned his hand over to take hold of it. 

“Then take my advice, just this once because I’ll admit you’re usually right. The best thing for everyone is for you to stay. For you too. You’re allowed to come out of this happy you know,” Jean said. Armin looked at his knees. How could Jean always read him so well? 

“I’m sorry,” Armin said earnestly. 

“I didn’t think you….I just didn’t think I guess.” Jean gave a somewhat half-hearted smile. 

“Just…promise me you won’t try a stunt like this again?” Jean requested. 

Armin returned the smile as best he could. 

“I promise,” he agreed. 

The remainder of the ride was as pleasant as could be expected. It was clear Jean was still nursing hurt feelings but Armin couldn’t and didn’t blame him in the slightest. When they walked in the door Marco’s feet pattering towards them accompanied the sound of Bean’s barking. 

“Dad! Armin! You’re home!” he called, stopping short when he saw them. “Hey what’s wrong? Are you guys fighting again? Armin, how come you didn’t pick me up from school today?” Marco asked. To Armin’s surprise, Sasha poked her head into the kitchen. 

“Oh hey boss,” she said. 

“Thanks for all your help Sasha. I’ll make sure you’re paid for it,” Jean assured her. 

“No problem. Okay Marco, I’ll see you tomorrow after school!” she said. “Oh, and you too Armin.” She smiled but Armin couldn’t help feel like she knew something was off. 

“Okay, okay,” Marco said impatiently. “She’s gone now. Why are you all frowny?” he demanded.

“It’s nothing Marco. I just did something kind of stupid this morning. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to pick you up,” Armin told him. 

Marco frowned as if debating whether to believe what seemed like such a simple answer.

“Are you guys hiding grown up stuff from me?” he asked, peering up at Jean. 

“No, Armin’s being honest,” Jean promised him. 

“Okay, then what was the stupid thing?” he questioned. 

“Now that _is_ grown up stuff,” Jean said. Marco pouted.

“Fiiiiiiine,” he complained. 

“I want to watch a movie tonight, can we?” he asked. Armin nodded. 

“Yeah…go set it up, we’ll be there in a minute,” he promised. The boy trotted away leaving Armin and Jean alone. 

“What now?” he asked. Jean shrugged. 

“We’ll figure it out. Together. I’m going to talk to my lawyer again. We might be able to prevent any of this from happening,” Jean said. Armin sighed. 

“I’m an idiot,” he said softly. 

“Nah, just stubborn,” Jean said and the affection in his voice made Armin think that maybe, just maybe, everything would work out after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this posted; I had a long drive today among some other things, but here's chapter 21. There will probably be one more chapter after this and an epilogue I've got planned. That's still subject to change but it probably won't. Thanks so much for sticking with me this long and I hope you enjoyed the update!


	22. Chapter 22

Armin woke to an empty bed the next morning, which didn’t surprise him nearly as much as actually being in bed; he certainly didn’t remember getting there. He remembered being on the couch with Marco and Jean, feeling terribly, horribly guilty as the boy snuggled up against him, unaware that just a few hours before Armin had been acting out a plan that would have caused him terrible grief. He remembered Marco falling asleep and Jean being the one to carry the boy into his bedroom and tuck him in. He remembered Jean coming back out and sitting down wordlessly beside him, which for some reason had caused him to start babbling apologies all over again. 

“Armin, look at me,” Jean had said firmly, and Armin had complied. “Seriously. Shut up. I get that you’re sorry, but it’s over and it’s done with. I think what you did was stupid, but I’m not going to hold it against you forever and I don’t want either of us to have to tiptoe around the subject for the rest of our lives, got it?” 

Armin had only been able to nod silently. Then Jean had asked him if he wanted a drink, which he had. Armin couldn’t remember how long they had stayed up drinking together. In fact, after a certain point there was a lot he felt like he couldn’t remember. He had a sneaking suspicion that he had revealed some very embarrassing personal information to Jean. But he was alone in Jean’s bed at least, so that had to be a good sign that he hadn’t said anything to frighten the other man off entirely. 

When he sat up he remembered what had woken him in the first place; his headache. He looked around and on the nightstand there was a bottle of pills and a glass of water. Armin rolled his eyes when he noticed that it wasn’t on a coaster. Jean certainly wasn’t an old dog but that was one trick he was having a hard time learning. His phone was sitting next to it and when he reached for it the screen told him he had a message waiting from Jean, two in fact. The first read;

_Took Marco to run some errands this morning. Probably won’t be back when you get up. I’ll explain when we get home. Take some meds if your head hurts._

And the second,

_PS, Marco insisted on sending you a good morning text, so good morning from both of us_

Armin looked at the time stamps on them and then at the clock. They had been absent for about three hours now, apparently. Armin couldn’t help but wonder where they’d gone, but at this point he knew well enough to ignore the sliver of worry in the back of his mind. Armin stretched and then grabbed the pill bottle, popping a few in his mouth and guzzling the entire glass of water. His mouth felt like something furry had curled up in it and died. He hoped he hadn’t snored all night; he knew he did that when he was drunk sometimes. 

Still, he had to admit, what he did remember of the evening was surprisingly pleasant; he had never seen Jean drunk before. He had smiled a lot, Armin remembered. Which wasn’t to say that he didn’t smile plenty when he was sober but when he was drunk that look in his eyes that told Armin he was important morphed into something that told Armin he was basically the center of this man’s world and it had spread across his whole face. Armin couldn’t help the pleased reaction that memory caused. 

He got out of bed, figuring a hot shower would help him feel better, but realized halfway through taking off his clothes that he’d left his suitcase at Eren. Armin frowned. That was another thing. He and his friend were going to have words. Not strong ones, perhaps, since everything had worked out for the best, but what the hell had possessed Eren to take Jean’s side? And what had been with that fake argument? Who the hell had even come up with that?

Armin picked up his phone and shot Jean a quick text thanking him for leaving the water and asking if it wasn’t too much trouble that he stop by Eren’s and get his things. Jean’s reply informed him that they were on the way home and they had already gone to Eren’s. Armin smiled to himself and then pulled up Eren’s contact and called him. 

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Hero himself. You and pretty-boy get things all straightened out?” Eren greeted. 

Armin could hear the noise of the kitchen in the background. 

“Are you at work?” he asked, ignoring his friend’s question. 

“Sort of. You just caught me on my break,” Eren told him. “You didn’t answer my question though. Is everything okay now?” 

Armin sighed. 

“More or less. We’re not fighting over it, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Huh. I’m surprised. He seemed pretty pissed,” Eren commented. 

“Oh he was. Still is, probably. I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him yet.” 

“Yeah, he came by pretty early to get your stuff. He had the kid with him but didn’t say where they were going.” 

“No, he didn’t tell me either, but it probably has something to do with this whole custody fiasco,” Armin said. 

“Yeah. I still can’t believe they pulled that shit. Then again, I can’t believe you pulled what you did either. I mean, it’s you, so I kind of can, but at the same time no, not at all.” 

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Armin said, reminded of the reason for his call in the first place. 

“Me?” Eren asked indignantly. 

“Yeah, you! I know you two were in cahoots. You let him carry me out of your house for crying out loud!” Armin protested.

“Well…Okay fine, so I told him you were there and that it would go down best if he played along. I couldn’t have you thinking I was on his side or I knew we’d never get you out of the house,” Eren said. 

“But you were on his side!” Armin said accusingly. 

“Well yeah I was, you idiot! I might think the guy is kind of an ass but he’s obviously the best thing that’s happened to you in years and I wasn’t going to sit there and watch you shoot yourself in the foot!” 

Armin was speechless, and for so long apparently that Eren had to check if he was still on the line. 

“Yeah I’m here. I just…didn’t know what to say,” he admitted. He heard Eren chuckle. 

“A thank you would be good. Also you should talk him into inviting us over so we can raid his liquor cabinet again,” the other man said.

“I’ll…see what I can do,” he agreed. “And Eren? Thank you. I don’t think I realized how badly I was messing up.” 

Eren gave another snort of laughter. 

“No shit Sherlock. But you’re welcome. Like I said, I can tell he’s good for you and you, you know, you deserve to be happy,” Eren said. 

Armin could picture him somehow, hunched over and covering his mouth with his hand as he spoke, because god forbid any of the people he worked with realize he had a huge soft spot. 

“Alright, well, I’ll let you get back to work. And if you’re serious about paying us a visit, Marco’s birthday party is this weekend and he wanted to make sure I invited you and Mikasa,” Armin told him. 

“Sure man, sounds good. I’ll talk to Mikasa about it but I think we can make it work. Talk you to later,” Eren said and then hung up. 

Armin stood there for a moment, remembering once again just how much he owed his friends. He knew they weren’t keeping track, but someday he’d find a way to make it all up to them. He tugged his shirt back on and went out to the kitchen to make himself some coffee while he waited for Jean and Marco to get back, which would probably be any moment. 

He considered food and finally decided on toast because while his stomach didn’t like the idea of it, he was sure it would like the idea of coffee on an empty stomach even less. Bean’s barking alerted him to the fact that Jean and Marco were home but he didn’t get up off the couch to greet them, letting them come to him instead.

“Good morning el drunko,” Jean greeted. 

Armin grunted at him. 

“You were drunk too,” he retorted. 

Jean laughed. 

“I know. You’re a much cuter drunk though. You kept telling me how nice my ass is.” 

Armin wanted to hide his face in the pillow beside him and was glad that Marco was too busy greeting Bean to pay them any attention. 

“Where’d you go anyways?” he asked. 

But perhaps Marco was paying more attention than Armin thought because he was the one who answered. 

“We went to meet Dr. Hanji!” he said. 

Armin raised an eyebrow. 

“Dr…Hanji?” he questioned. 

Marco nodded. 

“Yeah! They’re really nice, even though they asked me a lot of questions. Dad says I have to call Dr. Hanji ‘they’ though, because they’re…what’s it called again, Dad?” Marco asked, looking over to Jean. 

“Gender neutral,” Jean supplied.

Marco nodded again. 

“Yeah, that! Did you know people could do that? I think it’s really cool! They even drew pictures with me. Wanna see?” Marco asked. 

Armin nodded. 

“Okay! They’re in my backpack, I’ll go get them!” he said and raced out of the room. 

Jean sat down on the couch. 

“I took him to see a psychiatrist,” he said. Armin raised an eyebrow. 

“Why? Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned. 

“Of course. Nothing’s wrong with him, my lawyer and I just decided that our best bet was to have a preliminary psych eval done. If the results are good the courts might not even bother with an actual hearing, assuming Gail and Robert go through with it. They’re not going to just take him if there’s no reason to, and especially not just because Gail is offended by the fact that we’re both men. They’d have to prove that Marco is in physical or mental danger,” Jean told him. 

“But he’s not!” Armin protested. 

“Of course he’s not, that’s my point. Worst case scenario they decide they want their own shrink to do another one, but it won’t matter. Hanji told me that he’s as mentally stable as any seven year old whose mother died can be expected to be,” Jean assured him. 

“So…so it’s likely that nothing will come of all of this?” Armin asked. 

Jean nodded, putting a hand on Armin’s calf and stroking it gently. 

“….Then I really did run away for nothing,” he muttered.

To his surprise Jean chuckled.

“Yeah, basically,” he said plainly, and didn’t that just make Armin feel even more stupid. Fortunately Marco came back before Armin could get himself too down. 

“Dr. Hanji asked me to draw one of what my perfect life would be, so I drew this one,” he said, holding out the crayon drawing to Armin. There were three houses in the picture, with the one in the middle being just a little smaller than the other two. Armin and Jean stood in front of the house on the right, holding hands and smiling. A woman with dark hair and a blue dress stood in front of the house on the right. On her back were angel’s wings. She smiled up at Armin from the page and Armin remembered how much he must miss his mother. Marco stood in front of the third house, holding Bean’s leash. 

“I gave myself my own house, then I could visit you guys equally. And I could eat all the chocolate and peanut butter I wanted, because there wouldn’t be any adults,” he explained. “Plus Mama has her own house too, that way she doesn’t accidentally walk in on you and Jean kissing.” 

Armin could only laugh to hide his embarrassment and it occurred to him how grateful he was that that was all Marco had walked in on them doing. He didn’t need to look at Jean to know how smug he looked just then. 

“Well, now that everything is settled I’d better head into the office,” Jean said, getting back up. “Marco, take it easy on Armin today, okay? He’s probably not feeling too well.” 

Marco tilted his head and looked at Armin curiously. 

“Are you sick, Armin?” he asked, putting his small hand against the blond’s forehead.

Armin laughed. 

“No, not quite. I’m hungover,” he said. 

“What’s ‘hungover’ mean?” 

“It’s what happens to adults when they drink too much alcohol,” he explained. 

Marco pondered this briefly. 

“Well why’d you do that?” he asked. 

“Well, it’s hard to explain. When you drink too much you don’t really know that you’ve done it,” he said. 

“Well that just doesn’t make any sense,” Marco declared. “How can you not know if you had too much? I know when I eat too much pasta because I get a stomach ache.”

“Um…well…you’ll understand when you’re older,” Armin said, because honestly that was the best he could do. 

“Fine, but I just want to let you know that this makes me think adults are even weirder,” the boy said plainly. Armin guessed he could live with that. Beside him Jean snorted.

“Well, someday you’re going to grow up to be just as weird as us,” Jean promised. 

“Nu-uh! I don’t have to grow up if I don’t want to!” Marco argued. 

“But if you never grow up you’ll never get to have your own house and eat nothing but peanut butter and chocolate,” Armin reminded him. 

“Sure I can! I’ll just have Dad buy it for me!” the boy proclaimed. 

“Oh yeah? You think I’m gonna buy you a peanut butter house?” Jean asked. 

“No! Just a house full of it!” Marco stuck his tongue out and Armin watched from his seat on the couch as Jean chased the boy around. 

Yeah, Armin could definitely live with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone! I know I said this is the last chapter (with the exception the epilogue) but I have a question for you, my readers. Now, I'm not fishing for comments, but I'd really like to know if you'd like to see more in the Handle With Care 'verse or if you'd like me to just post the epilogue next week and move onto other things (most likely more Jearmin, but with a different plot). The problem is, I can go either way but I can't do both; I just don't have the time for it right now. So I'm leaving it up to you guys to tell me what you'd like to see - and it doesn't have to be on AO3! You can always shoot me a message on tumblr (havepenwillimagine) if you'd prefer to remain anonymous! As always, thanks for sticking with me up to this point and checking my story out!


	23. Epilogue

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Armin asked again, standing in front of the door with his suitcase beside him and a driver waiting downstairs. He would be gone for the next week for a book signing, leaving Jean and Marco alone at the apartment. Jean rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, I’m sure Armin. It’s only a week,” the brunet reminded him. Armin made a gesture that looked suspiciously like he was ringing his hands. 

“I know but-” 

“Armin, trust me. Everything will be fine. I’m not going to just plop him down in front of the TV all day while I go to work. I’m going to be working from home so I can keep an eye on him, alright?” 

Armin nodded. They had discussed the idea of that a few days ago and Armin was glad he had gotten it finalized. 

“Okay. Don’t forget to make him eat his vegetables and brush his teeth. And he’s got to be school early for the field trip on Wednesday and-” 

Jean interrupted him with a kiss. 

“Armin, babe, I got it, okay? But you’re going to miss your flight if you stand around here worrying much longer,” he pointed out. 

“Okay, I know…I just…” he sighed, trailing off. 

“I know, we’ll miss you too,” the man said, stroking his cheek. 

Jean dropped his hand to catch Armin’s, pulling it up to his mouth and kissing the ring on his left finger; the ring that Jean had put there a little under six months ago. 

“But everything will be just fine when you come home and we’ll be here waiting for you,” Jean vowed. Armin smiled, despite the nerves in his stomach. 

“Promise?” Armin murmured.

Jean chuckled. 

“I promise.” 

Armin opened his mouth to say something but the sound of his phone cut him off. He pulled it from his pocket and looked down at the caller I.D. 

“Shit, that’s the taxi. I’ve really got to go,” Armin groaned.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wake Marco up real quick?” he asked. 

Armin shook his head as he promised the driver he was on his way down. 

“No, let him sleep, he’s still got another hour,” he said after he got off the phone. 

Jean nodded and then pulled him close for one last kiss and one last hug and then Armin forced himself out the door. The whole ride to the airport Armin couldn’t shake the feeling that he had forgotten something, but he knew that was impossible. He had spent two days getting ready and laying everything out. It was probably just nerves; this was his first time flying without Jean. The man had been right about Armin enjoying traveling, but Armin wasn’t sure how well he liked the idea of doing it alone. 

Still, once he checked his bags, made it through security and finally plopped down into his seat he was too exhausted to be worried anymore. He reached into his laptop bag – another gift from Jean – to pull out his book when his hands wrapped around something soft and crinkly that he didn’t remember putting in there. He pulled it out and found a bag of cookies with a note inside. It was in Marco’s handwriting. 

_Dad and I made you some cookies for your trip in case you get hungry. Have fun and come home soon!_

Both of them had signed the bottom and Armin couldn’t help but wonder when they had gotten the time to do it without him noticing…But not having an answer to that didn’t stop him from opening the bag and taking a bite of one of them. The taste of it reminded him of home. He’d be back soon enough though, and he had this whole week to look forward to. Jean was right; he had worked hard and had earned this. 

When Armin had finished his manuscript, Jean had offered to put him in touch with the right people, but Armin refused. He had wanted to do it on his own. Of course he’d received a few rejection letters, but Jean had been there to comfort him when that had happened, and Marco had been endlessly certain that Armin would succeed. 

Eventually his book was accepted, and published, and while it wasn’t at the top of the New York Times’ Bestsellers List – though it was on there somewhere – it had a wide enough audience that he was flying overseas to sign books and do a reading. He had never in his wildest dreams thought he’d actually achieve all of this. It had been just that; a dream. He had wanted it, yearned for it, hope that if he was lucky then _maybe_ he’d get close. But he’d never expected this. He was successful. He was debt-free. He was _married_ for crying outloud, with a husband and a son that he loved more than anything. And most of all he was happy. 

He texted Jean when he landed, knowing that they wouldn’t get to talk much over the next week with the time difference. Even so they found time to communicate. The next morning he woke up to a video message of Marco and Jean brushing their teeth before bed and telling him they loved him. Armin sent a similar one back and couldn’t get the stupid smile off his face for the rest of the morning. It was bad enough that his agent asked him if he had just gotten some incredible news or something. Armin wasn’t even embarrassed to admit the real reason. How could he be? The next week was hectic to say the least; his agent had crammed more than Armin would’ve thought possible into his schedule between readings and signings and even an interview that he hadn’t been expecting. 

He thought about ‘forgetting’ to tell Jean since he knew his husband - even six months later just thinking the word still made him squirm giddily – would tape it and call Eren and Mikasa over to watch it at some point, probably after he got home, and he hated watching himself on TV. But he knew Jean would never forgive him, so he sent him a text with the date and time and local channel, which Jean probably didn’t have at the moment but would undoubtedly get by the time the interview aired. 

Armin wondered what they were doing right now. He glanced at his watch and realized that while it was evening where he was, it was barely the afternoon back home; Marco would have been at school and Jean would be in the apartment somewhere, working. Armin could almost picture him sitting at the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop with that little crease between his brows he got when he was concentrating. Later he would go pick up Marco from school, hopefully in the BMW, but now that Marco no longer needed a booster seat Jean seemed convinced he was ready to ride in the sports cars. Armin tried not to think about that, because he still hated driving with Jean in those damn things and he didn’t like the idea of Marco in it any more.

Still…Jean would probably heed his advice, at least while he was out of town. Jean had no problem doing things like that when Armin was there to lecture him about it later, or be there if –god forbid – something happened to them, but he seemed to know to tone it down when Armin was in high stress situations. The blond was infinitely glad for that. And honestly, he wasn’t really worried. Contrary to what Jean had said when Armin first arrived on the scene, he _was_ dad material. Perhaps he couldn’t always take the time to be at all of Marco’s school events or soccer games, but damn did he love that little monkey, and it showed in other ways, like it had when Armin found out that Jean had asked for Marco’s permission before proposing. 

Armin didn’t think he’d ever get over the vision of Jean standing at the altar in that perfectly tailored white tuxedo, flashing him that brilliant smile with eyes that – though he would never admit it – had been just a little damp. Marco had stood beside him in a tiny black tuxedo looking happier than he had when they had brought Bean home, which Armin hadn’t thought was possible until that moment. Eren and Mikasa had both walked him down the aisle to give him away and Eren had given Jean a firm handshake and a look that had clearly said, “I still think you’re an ass, but I know you’ll make him happy”. It had honestly been the happiest moment in Armin’s life and something that was still enough to make him grin like an idiot.

“What is with you today? You’ve been staring off in space and grinning like that since breakfast. It’s kind of creepy,” his agent pointed out. 

Armin gave a sheepish laugh. 

“Just thinking about home,” he admitted. 

“Well just try to keep a straight face during the interview tomorrow morning,” she reminded him. Armin laughed. 

“I will,” he promised.

Tomorrow was his last day here and he could hardly believe it. It created a strange mix of emotions in him, because on one hand it seemed like the time had gone by much too fast and that he hadn’t gotten any time here, but on the other…it felt like forever since Jean had held him in his arms and Armin was eager to be home. He crawled into bed that night, making sure to send a video message to the boys before curling up under the covers. And no he totally did not wrap his arms around the pillow and pretend it was Jean, as he had done every other night that week. 

The interview the next day went well, Armin only stumbled a few times and only caught himself rambling once and then, before he knew it he was on the plane on his way back home. He had arranged to be picked up from the airport by a driver, despite Jean’s insistence that they come meet him. Armin hadn’t wanted to take Marco out of school or as Jean to take any more time off work. Armin had expected Jean to fight him on it, but to his surprise he had agreed. So when his flight got in and he trudged his exhausted butt off the plane and down to the luggage carousels, the last thing he expected was a shout in a voice he knew very well.

“Dad!” 

Marco’s voice echoed across the large atrium-like room and before Armin knew it, Marco was running up to him and Armin was collecting him into a hug. He hadn’t realized just how long that week had been until that moment. Jean walked up to them, grinning from ear to ear as Armin looked up at him. Marco was too big for Armin to pick him up anymore, so Armin had to leave him standing on the ground as he stood back up. Jean’s smile softened into something tender as he reached to tuck a strand of Armin’s hair behind his ear. 

“Welcome home babe,” he murmured as he leaned in to kiss him softly. 

Armin smiled against his lips and he realized, as Marco went to go find his suitcase off the conveyor belt and Jean pulled him against him for a hug, that even though they were standing in the middle of an airport it didn’t matter where they were. Jean and Marco were his family. They were his home, and nothing in the world – not distance or arguments or bigots – could change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, the final chapter in Handle with Care! I want to thank all of you that have taken the time to read this, and especially those who have left comments and kudos. Your support keeps me writing!
> 
> Also, in regards to the question I asked last week, after considering all the requests and giving it some more thoughts on my own end, I've decided that this is the place I want to end the story. I do, however, have another story planned and the first chapter will be posted next Sunday! As a treat for stopping in and reading this, I'll give you a sneak peak into the plot:
> 
> Armin thinks his life is going pretty well; he owns a tattoo parlor with his two best friends and is doing pretty well. And then some drunk asshole comes in asking for a tattoo. Artist's choice, he says. Armin suggests a realistic looking penis on the side of his face. When the guy changes his mind, Armin is sure that's the last he'll see of him. But of course it's not.


End file.
